Alaska Park Science - UAA Institute of Social and Economic Research

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Alaska Park Science
National Park Service
U.S. Department of Interior
Alaska Regional Office
Anchorage, Alaska
Wilderness in Alaska
In this issue:
Economics of Wilderness
Using Ethics Arguments to Preserve Naturalness
Busing Through the Wilderness: “Near-Wilderness” Experience at Denali
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46
58
...and more.
Volume 13, Issue 1
Table of Contents
The Meaning of Wilderness____________________________________________ 6
Howard Zahniser’s Vision of Wilderness
—and the Whole Community of Life on Earth___________________________ 8
Alaska Wilderness: Looking Back, Looking Ahead______________________ 12
A Dena’ina Perspective: Respecting Ełnena (Land)______________________ 16
The Economic and Cultural Benefits of
Northwest Alaska Wilderness_________________________________________ 20
Whispers Wispy and Wishful__________________________________________ 26
At’oowu: The Tlingit Homeland_______________________________________ 32
Economics of Wilderness: Contribution of Alaska Parks
and Wilderness to the Alaska Economy________________________________ 34
What Future for the Wildness of Wilderness
in the Anthropocene?________________________________________________ 40
Using Ethics Arguments to Preserve Naturalness:
A Case Study of Wildlife Harvest Practices
on NPS Lands in Alaska_______________________________________________ 46
Searching for Wilderness: Amchitka Island, Alaska______________________ 52
Busing Through the Wilderness: Managing the
“Near-Wilderness” Experience at Denali_______________________________ 58
Commercial Use of Wilderness at Klondike
Gold Rush National Historical Park____________________________________ 66
Assessing and Mitigating the Cumulative Effects
of Installations in Wilderness_________________________________________ 74
Late Pleistocene Paleontology and Native Heritage
in Northwest Alaska_________________________________________________ 82
Artists Spotlight Alaskan Wilderness__________________________________ 88
Cover photo: Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve
Courtesy ofAdrienne Lindholm
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Noatak
National
Preserve
Cape Krusenstern
National Monument
Gates of the Arctic
National Park and
Preserve
Kobuk
Valley
National
Park
Bering Land Bridge
National Preserve
AL
KA
S
A
Yukon Charley Rivers
National Preserve
Denali
National Park
and Preserve
Wrangell St.-Elias
National Park and
Preserve
Lake Clark
National Park
and Preserve
Kenai Fjords
National Park
and Preserve
Glacier Bay
National Park
and Preserve
Katmai
National Park
and Preserve
Aniakchak
National
Monument
and Preserve
n
i a
u t
A l e
Klondike Gold
Rush National
Historical Park
Sitka National
Historical Park
Gulf of Alaska
s
n d
l a
s
I
This project is made possible through funding from
the National Park Foundation. Additional funding is
provided by the National Park Service and other
contributors.
Alaska Park Science is published twice a year. Recent
issues of Alaska Park Science are available for sale by
Alaska Geographic (www.alaskageographic.org).
Charitable donations to help support this journal
may be sent to: Alaska Geographic Association,
810 East Ninth Avenue, Anchorage, AK 99501
ATTN: Alaska Park Science.
Alaska Park Science
ISSN 1545-4967
June 2014
Project Lead: Robert Winfree, Regional Science Advisor,
email: [email protected]
Editor: Susan Sommer, www.akwriter.com
Alaska Park Science Journal Board and Liaisons:
Don Callaway, Cultural Anthropologist; Celeste Brooke Carney, Science
Communications Specialist, I&M; Daniel Flook, Historian, Alaska Regional
Office; Amy Hartley, Information Officer, University of Alaska liaison;
Jeremy Karchut, Archeologist, Alaska Regional Office; Rachel Mason, Cultural
Anthropologist; Shelli Huls, Alaska Geographic; John Quinley, Assistant
Regional Director for Communications ; Ned Rozell, Science Writer, University
of Alaska liaison; Rebecca Talbott, Chief of Interpretation and Education,
Alaska Region; Carissa Turner, Coastal Biologist, Katmai National Park and
Preserve; Sara Wesser, Inventory and Monitoring Coordinator, Alaska Region;
Robert Winfree, Chair of Journal Board ; Roy Wood, Chief of Interpretation,
Katmai National Park and Preserve
Published twice a year in June and December by Alaska Geographic, a nonprofit
partner of the Alaska Region of the National Park Service, supporting educational
programs through publishing and operation of visitor center bookstores.
Disclaimer: Information published in Alaska Park Science has been subjected
to general review by the National Park Service Alaska Region. Publication in
Alaska Park Science does not signify that the contents reflect the views of
the National Park Service, nor does mention of trade names or commercial
products constitute National Park Service endorsement or recommendation.
All issues of Alaska Park Science are posted for easy reading online at www.nps.gov/akso/AKParkScience/akparkarchives.html
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About the Authors
Adrienne Lindholm: Alaska Region Wilderness Coordinator, National Park Service
Alex Whiting: Environmental Specialist, Native Village of Kotzebue
Angie Southwould: GIS Database Designer and Programmer, National Park Service - Alaska Region
Christina Mills: Planning Assistant, Yellowstone National Park
Ed Zahniser: Writer-Editor, Publications Group, Harpers Ferry Center for Media Services
Ginny Fay: Assistant Professor of Economics, Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of Alaska Anchorage
Grant Hilderbrand: Regional Wildlife Biologist, National Park Service - Alaska Region
Jeffrey Hallo: Associate Professor, Department of Parks, Recreation, and Tourism Management, Clemson University
Jon Hardes: Archeologist, Western Arctic National Parklands (Bering Land Bridge National Preserve, Cape Krusenstern
National Monument, Kobuk Valley National Park, and Noatak National Preserve)
Karen Evanoff: Cultural Anthropologist, Lake Clark National Park and Preserve
Mary Beth Moss: Cultural Anthropologist, Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve
Merry Maxwell: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Alaska
Michelle Ravenmoon: Cultural Consultant
Robert Manning: Steven Rubenstein Professor of Environment and Natural Resources Director, Park Studies Laboratory,
Rubenstein School of Environment and Natural Resources, University of Vermont
Robert Winfree: Alaska Regional Science Advisor, National Park Service
Roger Kaye: Wilderness Coordinator, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, Alaska
Steve Colt: Professor of Economics, Institute of Social and Economic Research, University of Alaska Anchorage
Tim Lydon: Wilderness Manager for the Nellie Juan-College Fjord Wilderness Study Area, Chugach National Forest
William Valliere: Park Studies Laboratory and Vermont Tourism Data Center, Rubenstein School of Environment and
Natural Resources, University of Vermont
Wilson Justin: A skilled observer, Wilson Justin has spent a lifetime trying to match sacred songs and principles of his
clan to his generation’s place in a rapidly changing world.
Opposite: Noatak National Park
Courtesy ofAdrienne Lindholm
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Alaska Park Science, Volume 13, Issue 1
The Meaning of Wilderness
By Robert Winfree
NPS photo by Robert Winfree
Jonathan Hardes shares the thrill of finding ice age fossils
across park landscapes and explains how and why we must
ensure that they are properly protected and preserved.
This issue of Alaska Park Science celebrates the fiftieth
Does wilderness require management to stay wild?
anniversary of the 1964 Wilderness Act. The concept of
Grant Hilderbrand explores competing values and ethical
wilderness has clearly existed since ancient times. When the
considerations in wildlife management. Robert Winfree and
word “wildeornes” was recorded in Old English nearly a
Adrienne Lindholm describe National Park Service (NPS)
thousand years ago, it referred to lands populated only by wild
efforts to minimize the impacts of new and pre-existing
animals, uncultivated, uninhabited, inhospitable, and even
installations in and near
dangerous for humans. Today
Alaska wilderness. Roger
we have legal definitions, but
Kaye considers a growing
it’s safe to say that wilderness
dilemma for today’s and
still holds different meanings
tomorrow’s wilderness
for different people.
managers: Are wilderness
In this issue, Ed Zahniser
areas sufficiently wellreflects on growing up in
equipped by nature to
the nascent U.S. wilderness
adapt to climate change,
movement and describes
or is human intervention
his father’s thinking and
warranted to perpetuate
motivations that led directly to
historic conditions?
the Wilderness Act. Adrienne
What if the
Lindholm looks over the
unthinkable occurs? Can
challenges and accomplishments
a profoundly disturbed
of the last fifty years and forward
Figure
2.
Bears
in
Katmai
National
Park
and
Preserve
area ever be restored to
to those yet to come. Steve
wilderness conditions?
Colt and Ginny Fay explore the
Forty-three years after a 1971 nuclear detonation,
economic value of Alaska’s intact wilderness ecosystems.
Merry Maxwell reflects on that question from
Karen Evanoff and Michelle Ravenmoon; Alex Whiting;
Amchitka in the Aleutian Islands Wilderness.
Wilson Justin; and Mary Beth Moss, Kenneth Grant,
Michelle Jesperson, Barbara Bruno, and Christina Mills
What does the word wilderness mean for you?
share visions of wilderness—not as places to be alone, but
as homelands, places to nourish bodies, to perpetuate long
Will it mean the same to your grandchildren?
cultural traditions, and to commune with ancestral spirits.
Robert Manning and William Valliere explore visitor
experiences and values in wildland areas in two Alaska parks.
Figure 1. Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve covers
3.3 million acres of rugged mountains, dynamic glaciers,
temperate rainforest, wild coastlines, and deep sheltered fjords.
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Howard Zahniser’s Vision of Wilderness—
and the Whole Community of Life on Earth
By Ed Zahniser
Photo courtesy of Wilderness.net.
Zahnie mainly collected books on art, literature, and
natural history and conservation. His art and literature
collections especially favored books on the Hebrew
My father, Howard Zahniser, (Figure 1) was the primary
Scriptures’ Book of Job and by or about Italian poet Dante
author of the Wilderness Act of 1964. To understand his vision
Alighieri, English poet and engraver William Blake, and
of wilderness, it is good to start with his literary mentors.
American transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau.
He was bookish: In 1945, some members of The Wilderness
In the Book of Job, after Job is wiped out of everything,
Society governing council thought he was not enough of
including his family, God takes Job on a world tour. Old
“a wilderness man” to be hired that year as the Society’s
Testament scholar William P. Brown writes in “Where
Washington, D.C., presence and the editor of its quarterly
Job and the Wild Things Are”: “The world according to
magazine The Living Wilderness. Indeed, recent writers have
God is not finely tuned to ensure humanity’s flourishing,
pictured him “more like a librarian” than an outdoorsman.
let alone dominion. No, the world is a hodgepodge of life
Zahnie, as he was known to friends and associates, was
in all its wondrous and repulsive variety.
born in western Pennsylvania in 1906, the
It is a world of ‘ultimate pluralism,’ with
year President Theodore Roosevelt signed
Job included in the mix. Singling out one
the Antiquities Act and proclaimed Devils
particular animal, God says to Job: ‘Behold
Tower the first national monument. Zahnie
Behemoth, which I made with you. (40:15a)’”
grew up frugally, and later surrounded
“The clue is in the preposition,” Brown
himself—and his family—with a riches of
continues. “Behemoth is created with
books. My mother Alice Hayden Zahniser,
Job. . . . Job shares an identity, indeed
now aged 96, put her foot down when
a genetic identity, with this fearsome
her husband wanted to shelve books in
creature. Job’s DNA . . . is linked to this
the kitchen, too, atop the refrigerator.
lumbering, fearless, playful creature of
The furnace room and attic already held
the wild. Job is no isolated creation, and
bookcases. Because our house, built in 1929,
clearly not the apex of the created order.”
was not insulated, Zahnie had fashioned floorAldo Leopold, an original Wilderness
to-ceiling bookcases to insulate the hallways
Society
council member until his death in
on both floors. Shelving options grew scarce.
Figure 2. Howard Zahniser:
Principal architect of the
1948, wrote that wilderness is “an antidote
As the youngest of four children, I was the
Wilderness Act of 1964.
to the biotic arrogance” of Homo sapiens.
last living at home. As he and my mother and
Preserving wilderness shows restraint
I ate dinner, he would broach some topic.
and humility. Preserving wilderness makes some room for
Then, when my mother might slip into the kitchen, he would
permanence as well as for change. It treats some remnant of
ask me to go out to the trunk of the car where I would find a
the land as community, not commodity. These were tenets
book on that topic. “Bring it in please,” he’d say, “and while
of Zahnie’s vision of wilderness. To preserve wilderness
you’re at it, why not bring in two or three more from the
and wildness was, in effect, to redefine American notions
carton of the books?” Owners of two of Zahnie’s favorite
of progress. The Wilderness Act can be seen as a significant
used-book shops routinely gave me a free book shortly after
sociopolitical step that our culture has taken toward Aldo
we arrived—to occupy me so my father could shop longer.
Leopold’s vision of a land ethic. The Wilderness Act can be
seen as a step toward drawing the biosphere into our circle
of ethical regard, as a step toward recognizing ourselves as
Figure 1. Atop Cathedral Mountain, in what is now Denali
National Park, Alaska, July 1961, (left to right) Olaus J. Murie,
interdependent members of the whole community of life.
Howard Zahniser, and Adolph Murie. Adolph Murie was
In his magisterial Comedy, Italian Poet Dante Alighieri
working on his book The Bears of Mount McKinley that summer.
(1265-1321)
has a vision of Paradise but discovers that
The author and Stephen Griffith, son of The Wilderness Society
you must first go through the Inferno and Purgatory to
Treasurer Ernest Griffith, both fifteen-year-olds, collected grizzly
scat for Adolph’s study, under the watchful eyes of the late Joe
get there. The lesson? Maybe it’s that realizing a vision
Hankins.
demands that you be consistent, persistent, and actively
Photo by Ed Zahniser.
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Howard Zahniser’s Vision of Wilderness—and the Whole Community of Life on Earth
Figure 3. Plate 17, William Blake’s The Book of Urizen (1815),
showing Urizen, who represents humanity’s overweening
rationality, entangled in a fish net, for which an old term was
trammel, a form of the word untrammeled that Howard
Zahniser used in the definition of wilderness in the 1964
Wilderness Act. Designated wilderness is land onto which we
choose not to project human desire.
Photo courtesy of Wilderness.net
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Library of Congress image
patient—and hold to your vision, confident that it indeed
involves a paradise. My favorite quotation about my father
came from his longtime close associate Olaus J. Murie:
“Zahnie has unusual tenacity in lost causes.” (Figure 2)
English poet and engraver William Blake lived from 1757
to 1827. Blake’s axis of evil was the rationalist-materialists
John Locke, Francis Bacon, and Isaac Newton. Blake saw the
fullness of humans being taken captive by an overbearing
or overweening rationality. In The Book of Urizen, Blake
illustrated Urizen—who represents rationality—immobilized
in a mesh or net of his own making (Figure 3), and Blake
called that netting a “trammel.” This may well be where
my father saw both the richness and the lack of physical
specificity of the word untrammeled as ideal for defining
wilderness. As a writer, my father also learned from Blake
the engraver that, as Blake’s biographer Peter Ackroyd
writes, “words were precious objects carved out of metal.”
Eight years before the 1964 Wilderness Act was signed,
the first wilderness bill was introduced by U.S. politicians.
But it took many more years to achieve the final product
(Figure 4). In fact, The Wilderness Society council had
voted in 1947 to pursue some such protection. That makes
it an eighteen-year effort. But our wilderness movement
can be traced back to 1894, when Bob Marshall’s father
Louis Marshall and others inserted the “forever wild”
clause into the New York State Constitution. Or wait: Our
wild lineage goes back even further, to 1864 when George
Perkins Marsh published his book Man and Nature. Marsh’s
book—it has never been out of print—demonstrated
that late great civilizations around the Mediterranean
Basin had fallen when their forests were destroyed.
Or how about the transcendentalists in the 1830s into the
1860s? Maybe it took some 180 years to achieve 109 million
acres of congressionally designated wilderness. Ralph Waldo
Emerson, Margaret Sarah Fuller, and Henry David Thoreau
also anchor the deep lineage of our American wilderness
imagination. It is especially intriguing to contemplate how
closely transcendentalist Margaret Fuller’s 1830s and ‘40s
campaign of social reform prefigures the 1950s progressive
legislative agenda of Hubert H. Humphrey, the wilderness
bills’ chief sponsor in the U.S. Senate. The 1960s Great Society
program—which included the 1964 Wilderness Act—is
credited to President Lyndon B. Johnson and was brought
to fruition as law in Humphrey’s 1950s legislative package.
Zahnie learned a great deal about both writing and
wildness from Thoreau (1817-1862). Thoreau, who would
die of tuberculosis, wrote that words are precious objects
formed from the breath of life itself. Thoreau also penned the
intriguing mantra that “in Wildness is the preservation of the
World.” The word World here is, as Thoreau makes explicit in
his essay “Walking,” the Greek word kosmos. Kosmos means
not only “world” but also “order, pattern, and beauty.” Notice,
too: Thoreau does not maintain that we preserve wildness,
but that wildness preserves us, the world, beauty, pattern,
Figure 4. Signing of the Wilderness Act, September 3, 1964;
President Lyndon Johnson giving pen to Alice Zahniser (Mardy
Murie looking on).
and order. Wilderness and wildness—Zahnie wrote in 1957
“the essential quality of the wilderness is its wildness”—are
integral to who we are. This is perhaps the essential mystery
of wilderness and wildness. It is also why the founders
of The Wilderness Society insisted that the wildness of
Who that can see clearly these superlative
values of the wilderness . . . can fail to sense
a need for preserving wilderness areas?
Who in a democratic government that seeks
to serve the public interest even for the sake of
minorities would wish to lose an opportunity to
realize a policy for wilderness preservation?
Who that looks on into the future with a concern
for such values would not wish to insure [sic]
for posterity the freedom to choose the privilege
of knowing the unspoiled wilderness?
But are these superlative values essential?
Is the exquisite also a requisite?
I think it is.
Photo courtesy of Wilderness.net
the wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity. (Figure 5)
As wilderness activist and author Douglas W. Scott has
shown, the language that opens the Wilderness Act was
little changed throughout the many, many revisions made
between the first wilderness bill, introduced in the House
and the Senate in summer 1956, and the act’s signing in
September 1964. That language expresses a vision despite
its role in defining wilderness and describing the situation
of wilderness. Zahnie’s vision is most clearly expressed
in two of his speeches from the wilderness-bill years,
“Wilderness Forever” and “The Need for Wilderness
Areas.” Both speeches are found on http://www.wilderness.
net in the “Wilderness Fundamentals Toolbox.”
Scott also points out that the full title that opens
the Wilderness Act, which is seldom quoted, is hugely
important: “An Act To establish a National Wilderness
Preservation System for the permanent good of the whole
people . . .” For the permanent good of the whole people.
“The Need for Wilderness Areas” was first delivered as a
speech to the American Planning and Civic Association
in May 1955. In it, after quoting at length from Robert
Marshall describing the values of wilderness, Zahnie said:
Figure 5. Left to right: Howard Zahniser, Mardy Murie, and
Olus Murie.
I believe that at least in the present phase of our
civilization we have a profound, fundamental need for
areas of wilderness—a need that is not only recreational
and spiritual but also educational and scientific, and
withal essential to a true understanding of ourselves, our
culture, our own natures, and our place in all nature.
After introducing the first wilderness bill in the
Senate in 1956, then-Rep. Humphrey inserted “The
Need for Wilderness Areas” in the Congressional
Record, telling his colleagues that it was the best
explanation of what the wilderness bill was all about.
I think my father simply fell in love with the mystery of
how wilderness is an integral necessity for human beings as
part of what he called “the whole community of life on earth
that draws its sustenance from the Sun.” Zahnie had grown
up in an evangelical tradition that assumes that we must work
to leave the world a better place. He believed that the world
is a better place, and that we are a better people—despite
our all-too-obvious world-altering powers—for boldly
embracing the humility to take some of the wilderness and
wildness that have come down to us out of the eternity of
the past and to project them into the eternity of the future.
REFERENCES
Ackroyd, P. 1996
Blake: A Biography. New York: Alfred A. Knopf
Brown, W. 2009.
Where Job and the Wild Things Are, sermon.
Shepherdstown (WV) Presbyterian Church, October 25.
Ginsberg, A. 1988.
Your Reason & Blake’s System. New York: Hanuman Books.
Harvey, M. 2007.
Wilderness Forever: Howard Zahniser and the Path to the
Wilderness Act. Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Harvey, M., ed. 2014.
The Wilderness Writings of Howard Zahniser.
Seattle: University of Washington Press.
Leopold, A. 1970.
The Land Ethic. A Sand County Almanac.
New York: Ballantine Books.
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Alaska Wilderness: Looking Back, Looking Ahead
By Adrienne Lindholm
Wilderness is good for Alaska. That’s what many
of we Alaskans already think, and it’s the message that
the Wild 50 groups in Anchorage, Fairbanks, and Juneau
hope to spread across the state during 2014, the fiftieth
anniversary of the 1964 Wilderness Act. Comprised of federal
agencies, nonprofit organizations, Native representatives,
academic institutions, youth, tourism sectors, and
volunteers, Wild 50 is planning commemorative events
across the state to celebrate this important anniversary.
We have a lot to be excited about. Alaska wilderness serves
as a unique scientific laboratory. It has been the engine for
fifty years of tourism growth in Alaska. It includes landscapes
that inspire countless works of art. It is a playground for hardy
adventurers, a touchstone to the past, and a link to cultural
identity. It conjures a sense of freedom and self-reliance
that is getting harder to come by in our technology-centric
world. Wilderness areas around the country contain similar
attributes, but Alaska wilderness is the epitome of our
National Wilderness Preservation System (NWPS) and
remains an iconic symbol of wildness and freedom worldwide.
Alaska wilderness is unique and there is a lot of
it. About 95 percent of National Park Service (NPS)
land in Alaska falls under some category of wilderness
protection—about 30 percent of the nation’s wilderness.
Including areas managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service and U.S. Forest Service, we’re collectively talking
about more than 57 million acres of designated wilderness
in Alaska: watersheds, mountain ranges, glaciers, wetlands,
coastlines, volcanoes, and forests that support diverse
wildlife populations, protect archeological resources,
provide a setting for wilderness recreation, and support the
continuation of a subsistence lifestyle for local communities.
The Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act
(ANILCA) ensures that wilderness in Alaska is unique
within the NWPS by making unprecedented allowances
Figure 1. Walker Lake.
for access and activities not normally found in Lower 48
wilderness areas. Prior to passage of ANILCA, people all
over Alaska were involved in widely dispersed activities
like backcountry recreation, cabin building, hunting,
fishing, trapping, and small-scale mining—often in
very remote and primitive settings. Their methods of
transportation varied widely, from foot travel and dog sleds
to snowmachines, motorboats, and airplanes. To satisfy
the demand for protection of the wildlands of Alaska,
Congress realized that some special exceptions would be
necessary to preserve traditional activities and accommodate
transportation needs between remote communities. When
finally passed in 1980, ANILCA reserved federal lands
on an unprecedented scale while also including similarly
unprecedented special provisions to address Alaska’s
distinctive rural way of life and lack of infrastructure.
ANILCA tried to make wilderness a good thing for everyone.
Unfortunately, not everyone saw it that way. Wilderness
faced threats from adjacent resource development,
and many Alaskans were fearful that land management
would constrain local lifestyles and diminish potential
for economic growth. Many heated debates transpired
about how to make decisions that were best for our
wilderness resources, Alaskans, and the American public.
Land managers confronted numerous challenges
internally. They had to learn what this new ANILCA
wilderness was all about and communicate that information
to their own staff and to the public. They had to make sure
wilderness had a seat at the table and that their colleagues
were willing and able to integrate wilderness values into
decision-making processes. They also had the difficult job
of making park managers and field staff aware of their roles
and responsibilities in managing wilderness lands; that
often meant taking more time to make decisions and doing
work differently than how they had done it in the past.
Wilderness stewardship in Alaska has come a long way.
Proponents of resource development are now tempered by
a broad spectrum of Alaskans who appreciate the benefits of
wilderness. These often include conservation organizations,
hunters, trappers, birders, Native groups, commercial fishing
interests, photographers, outdoor sport enthusiasts, armchair
adventurers, tourism organizations, and small businesses.
Photo by Robert Winfree
13
Alaska Wilderness: Looking Back, Looking Ahead
Agency personnel who steward Alaska wilderness areas
are armed with a clearer understanding of the Wilderness
Act’s mandate to preserve wilderness character, and the
2014 Keeping it Wild in the National Park Service: User Guide
to Integrating Wilderness Character into Park Planning,
Management, and Monitoring provides land managers with
practical strategies and tools to do just that. Now that we
are able to define wilderness character in terms that are
tangible and that directly link agency stewardship to the
requirements of wilderness legislation and agency policy, we
are able to make more objective and defensible decisions.
Land managers in Alaska benefit from wilderness
training and wilderness research that is supported by the
Arthur Carhart National Wilderness Training Center and
the Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute. Over
the last fifty years, wilderness scientists, historians, legal
scholars, philosophers, and writers have given us a much
better understanding of the concept of wilderness, the
legal mandate for managing wilderness, and the natural and
cultural resources that occur within wilderness in the Alaska
national parks. This new understanding and these new tools
have allowed us to improve stewardship of the wilderness.
Specifically, the NPS Alaska Region now has a process
in place for evaluating impacts to wilderness character in
National Environmental Policy Act documents. Alaska parks
use a science in wilderness evaluation framework to evaluate
the benefits and impacts of proposed research projects,
park staff are equipped with a better understanding of their
responsibilities for preserving wilderness character, and most
Alaska parks have updated maps of wilderness boundaries.
These big accomplishments allow us to more adeptly steward
these special places and embrace our wilderness heritage.
We continue to confront new challenges. Surely,
there will continue to be pressure around the borders of
wilderness areas as Alaska’s population increases, and
large scale mining and other resource development sectors
advocate for expanded industrial activity, infrastructure,
and transportation systems. Under such scenarios, public
support will be critical to “hold the line” for preserving
wilderness lands and waters. There are other threats
too though, including some more insidious. As the 2012
Revisiting Leopold report points out, “Environmental changes
confronting the National Park System are widespread,
complex, accelerating, and volatile.” It goes on to list a
few of them: biodiversity loss, climate change, habitat
fragmentation, invasive species, air, noise, and light pollution.
These threats will tear at the fabric of the natural quality of
our wilderness areas and test our will to embrace restraint
and humility, central tenets of wilderness stewardship.
It will no doubt be a challenge to preserve the freedom
that Alaska wilderness embodies. Freedom of the land to
continue to change according to its own free will, freedom of
natural processes to play out without humans intervening—
directly or indirectly. The challenge for land managers
will be to make the hard choices between intervening in
order to perpetuate a species or landscape, and keeping
Figure 2. Mount McKinley.
14
Photo courtesy of Adrienne Lindholm
Figure 3. North Fork Glacier
our hands off in order to preserve a sense of wildness.
David Gessner writes about freedom in another sense: the
liberating feeling of leaving society and technology behind.
He writes that one of the best arguments for wilderness is
one that connects “freedom from feeling like we’re all under
constant surveillance with the freedom to go to the natural
world as a refuge—as a place apart.” He goes on to say that,
“This isn’t the jingoistic ‘freedom’ that pundit politicians
[prattle] . . . on about, but rather something much closer to the
real, productive, pioneering freedom that—in this country, at
least—has always been tied to our most fundamental ideals:
independent thought, nonconformity, and the exploration
of new frontiers.” This sense of freedom will continue to get
more difficult to find. In an era rich in technology, short on
time, and characterized by instant information and instant
gratification, wilderness faces a challenge with technology
like never before: technology that is accessible just about
everywhere. At risk is the feeling of freedom a person has
when they enter the Alaskan wilderness, knowing they can
leave the whir of civilization and technology behind.
It will be up to Generations X, Y, and Z to confront
these challenges and preserve wilderness character.
Will young people love wilderness and want to protect
it? Will wilderness be relevant to younger generations
without compromising wilderness ideals?
Wild 50 believes it will be. We believe wilderness will
continue to be an enduring and ever more important
resource for Alaska and the American people as areas
outside wilderness begin to look and feel more and more
different from the ways they once were. Throughout
2014 we will celebrate Alaska’s wilderness as unique
and irreplaceable. Wild 50 hopes you will join us in
keeping Alaska wild forever, celebrating wilderness as
an important part of Alaska’s future, and recognizing
wilderness as our gift to countless future generations.
REFERENCES
Alaska Wild 50 on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AlaskaWild50 and the
national Wilderness 50 webpage: http://www.wilderness50th.org/index.php
Gessner, D. 2013.
Could Drones Mean the End of Wilderness? Huffington Post, May 19, 2013. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/onearth/coulddrones-mean-the-end_b_3354001.html
National Park System Advisory Board Science Committee. 2012.
Revisiting Leopold: Resource Stewardship in the National Parks. http://www.nps.gov/calltoaction/PDF/LeopoldReport_2012.pdf
15
16
A Dena’ina Perspective: Respecting Ełnena (Land)
By Karen Evanoff and Michelle Ravenmoon
Reprinted with permission from the Lake Clark
Wilderness Character Narrative
The legacy of unseen footprints of the Dena’ina people
has sustained the place now called Lake Clark Wilderness
for centuries. The Dena’ina people of the Lake Clark area
believe that everything has a spirit and should be treated
with respect. We call this ‘K’etniyi’ meaning ‘it’s saying
something.’ This is the power of nature’s voice—an ancient
connection to the spirit of the Dena’ina people. This is
how we define wilderness. Our ancestors’ beliefs for caring
for the land has been simple—respect all living things; not
taking more than you need, giving something back when
you take—this can be a prayer, deep thoughtful respect or a
small material item such as a safety pin. What has emerged
from this relationship with the land is the Dena’ina language,
spirituality, cultural connection to the land, and identity.
The land provides for us and we were taught to be
respectful. This respect is not questioned and we are
conscious that when we interact with nature, we are praying.
We harvest our food from the land, we put up salmon every
summer, we hunt for meat, and we pick berries. As we stoke
the fire in the smokehouse full of drying salmon, this is prayer.
As we pressure cook the meat from the black bear for canning,
being careful not to waste any of the meat, this is prayer. As
we pick berries this is done with prayer. The relationship with
the land is filled with gratitude and respect, for we are nothing
without the blessings of the land in which we were raised.
We recognize and feel the connection to weather and
understand the importance of paying attention. Look to the
tops of spruce trees; if there are a lot of spruce cones this
Figure 1. Ice fishing at the Beaver Trapping Educational Camp at
Chulitna Bay on Lake Clark.
Photo by Michelle Ravenmoon
means there will be a lot of snow. If there are a lot of white
Hudson Bay tea blossoms, this tells us that there will be a lot
of salmon this summer. Just this fall before the lakes froze,
a heavy fog came over the lakes—hovering over Sixmile
Lake and up through Lake Clark. A Dena’ina elder watching
through the window said, “A long time ago they used to
say that when the fog came in over the lakes, this means
that the fog is spreading the word over the lakes—the fog is
sending the message that the lakes will be freezing soon.”
Fish camp continues to be an important tradition of the
Dena’ina people. The comparison used, when asked what
fish camp is: It’s like Christmas, only better. We are not
paying a price for gifts or experiencing a fleeting moment
of joy and celebration. We are preparing all year long for
our few months of celebration. We are coming together as
family and community and sharing the gratitude of putting
up fish—fulfilling our spirits, minds, emotions, and bodies
from the same source and practices our ancestors did. It’s
hard to put into words the feeling—the connection that
ignites the spirit when it comes time for fish camp. It is an
ingrained, unconscious movement that is felt when spring
turns into summer. Fish camp is a communion with every
aspect of putting up fish. It’s a relationship that has been
created from the time of birth, sensing when summer comes,
it’s time to go back to fish camp, it’s the smell, the slime, it’s
nature—connecting back to the water, bringing relatives
home, it’s knowing you have fish for winter not only for your
family but to share at potlucks and with relatives and friends.
It’s a spiritual igniter that restores this underlying excitement
after a long winter. It’s a part of life that is not questioned,
whether we go to fish camp or not. It’s done every summer.
It’s the contented labor of splitting fish, of stoking the smoke
house fire, and of taking care and pride in putting up fish the
right way. This deep-rooted way of life cannot be measured,
cannot be priced, and it can be easily overlooked by an
outsider, because it’s beyond the visual and the spoken.
Reflecting on the idea of wilderness, Michelle Ravenmoon
noted, “I have learned to appreciate even the smallest
17
A Dena’ina Perspective: Respecting Ełnena (Land)
interactions between animal and land. As a child, I would
watch the spiders spin webs; they put unwearied effort into
their webs. I learned a respect for the work put into a web
and I took great care not to destroy webs just because they
were in my path. I also learned to pay attention to when
spiders spun webs because spiders seem to have an ability to
predict when the wind would not blow and that was webmaking time. By paying attention to the spiders, I learned a
technique to predict the weather. I think many people look at
wilderness and think that they need to see a bear or a moose
for a true experience with nature, but it is through patience
and mindfulness that the true experience takes place.”
To some people, the word “wilderness” conjures
thoughts that we are separate from nature, that the woods
are unknown, untouched, perhaps mysterious, or even
dangerous. This may create feelings of fear, excitement,
adventure, longing for connection to nature . . . but when all
thoughts of the individual components dissolve and we let
go of the attachment or judgments we’ve given them, all we
see is the beauty of the natural surroundings. We feel right
at home, we want to care for and not take from the land, and
we realize that we are not separate from nature but part of it.
The wilderness and all that it encompasses is not a mystery;
it is us and it is home. It’s as familiar as looking in the mirror.
Many places in the Lake Clark Wilderness have Dena’ina
place names developed over time through stories, events,
and experiences. It was not common to name a place after a
person; natural places were left with a name that came from
the experience and gifts it offered—‘Dilah Vena’—fish swim
in lake; ‘K’dalghek’tnu’—scraping noise (of antlers) stream;
and ‘Ch’kentałqeyitnu’—someone throws spear stream. Over
two thousand place names like this are spread across the
region and each place holds meaning. It is important that
the Lake Clark Wilderness encompasses these meanings
and that we continue to honor the footprints of culture
as integral to our contemporary idea of wilderness.
Photo by Karen Evanoff
Figure 2. Spider web on spruce tree in the early morning dew.
18
Photo courtesy of Adrienne Lindholm
Figure 3. Seining for salmon, a subsistence activity, on Sixmile Lake near Nondalton, Alaska.
REFERENCES
National Park Service. 2012.
Lake Clark Wilderness Character Narrative. http://www.wilderness.net/toolboxes/documents/WC/Lake%20Clark%20Wilderness%20Character%20Narrative.pdf
19
20
The Economic and Cultural Benefits
of Northwest Alaska Wilderness
By Alex Whiting
Northwest Alaska, from Kotzebue Sound to the
headwaters of the Kobuk River, is approximately the size
of Indiana. It is mostly roadless wildlands dotted by eleven
villages that are located on the coast or along the major rivers.
The Red Dog Mine with its associated road and port site is
the only large resource development project in the region,
leaving most of the area in a natural state. Except for Red Dog,
the relatively small rural communities, and the numerous but
even smaller individual camps along the coasts and rivers,
there is no obvious distinction between what is designated
as formal wilderness and what is not. Federal lands in the
form of parks, preserves, wilderness areas, a monument, and
a national wildlife refuge comprise the majority of formal
land designations in the region. Wilderness areas include
the Selawik Wilderness, Noatak Wilderness, Kobuk Valley
Wilderness, and Gates of the Arctic Wilderness. Given the
lack of habitat demarcation between wilderness areas and
other areas, it is not surprising that you would be hard pressed
to find any lifelong residents of northwest Alaska who could
tell you where the formal wilderness areas are, or how they
differ in management from other federal lands. While most
people in the region are aware that park units and other
land designations exist, few are aware that formal wilderness
areas occur here as well. This collective inability to identify
the boundaries of wilderness areas demonstrates the intact
nature of the land and local residents’ strong cultural ties to
it, with the only visible boundaries being on paper (Figure 2).
The formal designation of wilderness areas in northwest
Alaska contributes to sustaining an ecosystem that is
predicated on an expansive area of natural habitat that is
not fragmented by human development. The nondesignated
wilderness areas that adjoin formal wilderness add
significantly to the benefits produced by the latter. The
relatively small human disturbances in areas adjacent to
designated wilderness are mitigated in part by the extensive
intact ecosystem that stretches from the Chukchi Sea
across the entire Brooks Range. While all species present in
northwest Alaska benefit from large areas of undisturbed
Figure 1. Snowmachine packing.
Photo by Jim Dau
habitat, it is critical to highly valued cultural and ecological
keystone species like caribou, Dall sheep, grizzly bears,
wolves, and wolverines, in particular (Figure 3).
Most people born in the region trace their ancestry back
to people living essentially in the same countryside that
remains today (including those areas that are now designated
wilderness) and a few can trace their own birth, or that of
their parents, back to a dwelling located in areas currently
designated as wilderness. Being born and raised in wilderness
was definitely not a consideration during the development
of the Wilderness Act—which by definition is a place where
people are visitors and do not remain. Of course, for Arctic
indigenous populations whose entire history and culture is
defined by living in wilderness (whether formally designated
or not), the wilderness concept is a western construct that
is foreign to them. Much of the local traditions, folklore,
notable landmarks, and family histories are associated with
the country these wilderness areas encompass (Figure 4).
Most Americans think about formal wilderness as
areas that are representative of natural ecological spaces
where nature is allowed to carry on substantially free from
human interference and where people are only occasional
visitors. Specifically, the main principle of most designated
wilderness is for nonconsumptive purposes where only
photos are taken and footprints are left. While designated
wilderness areas found in northwest Alaska definitely have
the ecological traits represented by traditional wilderness
areas, there remain significant differences that set these
areas apart from other wilderness areas in the Lower 48
and even those portions of Alaska where the 1980 Alaska
National Interest Land Claims Act (ANILCA) legislation
does not apply. The most distinct difference is that these
areas are treasured by local residents not for their wilderness
character per se but for their economic contributions by
providing food and income through hunting, fishing, fur
production, and other traditional activities. This enables
local people to continue their culture of living off the land
and allows many to avoid having to move to distant urban
centers to completely join the cash economy (Figure 5).
The beauty of land from a local perspective is anchored
in its ability to sustain local culture through the production
of high quality food and fur. The latter can be used to make
warm, functional clothing that can be as much art as utilitarian
garment, or sold to produce income. The former helps
21
The Economic and Cultural Benefits of Northwest Alaska Wilderness
define a people who are first and foremost a hunting culture.
Continuing a way of life based on wild meat consumption
is distinct from cultures based on domestic livestock in
very qualitative ways. Most of the negatives surrounding
western meat production and consumption are minimal or
completely reversed to become positives. For example, while
petroleum products are used in transportation to secure
food and other resources from the country, they are not used
to grow or produce them, an important distinction from
most domestic food production that has a large carbon and
Photo by Jim Dau
Figure 2. Wilderness valley in winter.
Photo by Tina Moran, USFWS
Figure 3. A herd of caribou on the move.
22
aquifer-depleting footprint attached. Other benefits from
eating off the land include: plant and animal food species
that are not genetically modified organisms; the production
of meat is not industrialized with all the negative inputs and
processes associated with this; the disposal of animal waste
Photo by Jim Dau
Figure 4. Stone flakes.
Photo by Susan Georgette, USFWS
Figure 5. Cleaning a caribou skin.
Photo by Martha Whiting
Figure 6. Cranberry aamuk.
is not a negative issue and in fact provides natural fertilizer
for the system. Most importantly the meat and other food
items gathered in wilderness areas are very healthy based on
their own nutritional merits and even more so in comparison
to domesticated meat that studies show contribute to heart
disease and other health issues (Figure 6). The health and
cultural benefits of going out into the country with family
and friends to obtain these resources also contributes
greatly to the quality of life for residents in the region.
Of course while food and fur production is demonstrably
the most valued contribution that wilderness provides
to the regional way of life, other benefits of wilderness
are also present. These landscapes provide local people
with a sense of freedom, a tie to the ancestors, cultural
expression, and spiritual renewal (Whiting 2004). One
of the most notable cultural contributions provided
by utilizing the backcountry of northwest Alaska is the
egalitarian effect it has on societal standing. The land
affords greater privileges and rewards to those who earn it
through experience, skill, and conditioning regardless of
their net worth or formal resume. Technology and money
can only compensate for a lack in any of these areas to a
very limited degree. This situation allows for those that are
experts at wilderness living and who may not necessarily
participate in large part in western institutions to achieve
a high level of societal status and self-worth. The greatest
respect in Iñupiaq society is still reserved for those that are
successful hunters and providers and that are knowledgeable
about living and surviving off the land (Figure 7).
The main social challenge for managing wilderness areas
in northwest Alaska lies in balancing federal and nonlocal
priorities with local priorities and norms. Management of
them must be generally compatible with local traditions
in order for local people to support their existence, and
to reduce cross-cultural conflicts. Unfortunately, there is
a fundamental difference between the core of wilderness
management that defines “natural and healthy wildlife
populations” as being not unduly influenced by humans,
and the local perspective that indigenous people have been
affecting wildlife populations through their hunting for
millennia and thus are a natural part of the system. It is
impossible for local people to subscribe to the theory that
natural wildlife populations are only those not manipulated
by humans, when set against the thousands of years of local
wildlife populations coexisting with a subsistence culture.
When can the presence of humans be natural? It’s when wild
populations have evolved with their presence and influence
over thousands of years, that’s when. For those that are
skeptical of the ecological benefit of a hunting culture that
has evolved with a landscape and its wildlife populations,
it would serve well to remember the attitudes of people as
it related to wolves in places like the Yellowstone National
Park ecosystem. At one time, not that long ago, predators
where seen as only detrimental to ecosystems and their
23
The Economic and Cultural Benefits of Northwest Alaska Wilderness
Photo by Susan Georgette, USFWS
Figure 7. Group caribou hunting.
Photo by Alex Whiting
Photo by Joanne Goodsell
24
Figure 8. House pits.
Figure 9. Caribou skull.
removal was believed to be what was in the best interest of
the nation’s treasured wild areas, like Yellowstone. However,
it is now well known that this understanding of ecosystems
was incorrect and that predators are necessary to a healthy
ecosystem. While conservation in the form of regulating
human take for long-term sustainability is important, the
Yellowstone example proves consumptive use of wildlife
populations (within limits) promotes a healthier and more
resilient ecosystem than would occur if these populations
were not harvested at all, or minimally. While it is not always
obvious to the casual observer, there are other ecological
benefits besides the predator-prey relationship that humans
have contributed to the Arctic systems. One of the clearest
examples being that some of the most productive habitats on
the Arctic tundra are the numerous old house pits (Figure 8)
where more varied and productive plant species are found
providing quality forage for herbivores and where raptors,
foxes, rodents, and ermine find denning and hunting sites. In
addition, even the smaller but more numerous butchering sites
spread over the entire region provide essential nutrients for
the plants and scavengers found in those locations (Figure
9). Human presence can be beneficial to wild systems,
especially where coevolution over centuries has occurred.
Having a people with ties going back thousands of years
continue consumptive use of wilderness areas should not be
something that is merely “tolerated” or “allowed,” but instead
should be part and parcel with the celebration of these
areas as national treasures. Supporting the continuation
of America’s indigenous Arctic populations as a managing
philosophy should be equal to all other management
considerations of these wilderness areas and the other
federal lands in northwest Alaska. Unfortunately, the attitude
of many western managers, bureaucrats, and wilderness
advocates continues to be one of not fully committing to
the belief that the human presence in northwest Alaska is a
natural part of the ecology. Due to this cultural dichotomy,
federal and nongovernmental organizations are many
times at odds with local standards, uses, and philosophies.
Photo by Jim Dau
Figure 10. Wilderness hill.
Policies that are meant to protect designated wilderness areas
from small scale human use impacts (including consumptive
use), while likely consistent with the Wilderness Act, are
generally incompatible with local perspectives and needs.
Even though management of the northwest Alaska
wilderness areas is not always agreeable with the local
culture, the protected habitat found in these areas is critical
to the resilience of the local ecosystem and the culture that
depends on it. Their fates are inextricable. Many threats
remain for both; some of the more notable include climate
change, long-range contaminants, predator-prey balances,
and insect and zoonotic outbreaks. Additionally, recent
proposals to build road systems to the mineral resources in
northwest Alaska and the mines that would be developed
pose real challenges to the long-term ecological integrity of
this region. The wild matrix of intact wilderness (Figure 10)
that still exists inside and outside of designated wilderness
areas, from the Chukchi Sea to the Canadian border, may
partly ameliorate the negative effects of these impacts to the
land and animals. Whether in the end it will be enough to
enable both the indigenous cultures and the wilderness
areas to survive and prosper remains to be seen.
REFERENCES
Whiting, A. 2004.
The Relationship between Qikiktagrugmiut (Kotzebue Tribal Members) and the Western Arctic Parklands, Alaska, United
States. International Journal of Wilderness 10(2):22-31, 8
25
26
Whispers Wispy and Wishful
By Wilson Justin
Photo courtesy of Wilson Justin
top of the sparkling glacier. It was there, it was always there.
The noon sun would sear the river rocks and the heat waves
would dance like dervishes first one way and then the other.
I always thought that one could see forever if one could
Godfrey and I would run or walk or creep whichever was
be friends with the steep shadows that drop quickly in the
first in our minds, along the young spruce that curved up
autumn mountains. There is a rhythm even in the silence
to the airfield. Very soon we would be missed and rugged
that marks time in a way that could never be counted in the
brown faces would bob and crinkle in the heat behind us.
twisting electronic glare of captured light cast harshly against
Our village had been pulled apart by forces that were
houses, or glass or steel. Once turned, the trail is a different
light years from our
friend. A horse quickens
comprehension and if there
his pace, the camp dog will
were some danger in the
bounce a bit, and the hunter
field, it was left to one of the
feels for the moment a sense
four remaining adults to see
of senselessness. All is home
to our safety. I remember
on the trail whose call may be
the evening songbirds soft
older than your clan but even
and silky and the low deep
then I can sense in the pull
murmur of the river across
of the evening sky something
from us. Once night began
more vast and more complete,
to settle, the horses would
just ahead or just around
drift down and camp out
the corner or maybe next to
directly in front of our cabin
the last lonely sun-caught
(Figure 2), fearful of the
rock on a distant peak. I
occasional villainous grizzly
know I have heard forever
Figure 2. Horses bedding down for the night.
ever mindful that there
but have I seen it? Which
were still a few fighting dogs
eyes would it have been? The
around the houses. The houses (Figure 3) were scattered
Nabesna? Let’s see what it looked like then.
along the trail leading to the watering hole three-fourths of a
At six years of age I could only see the field lying just
mile away and bearing southwest. The first little hut stapled
past the trees, and what seemed to me miles and miles of
together of small spruce and found nails belonged to my
openness, reaching in a giant sweeping arc to the glacier,
Aunt Lena (Figure 4). It was a teenager’s house thoughtfully
brilliant in the noon sun. It was only twelve miles away but
built for one person. The next house (Figure 5) was of house
I could see the broad, blue-white back snaking around the
logs cleaned and pressed to the ground with a fine axe
corner of the mountain in a sprawling curve that left nothing
and fitted in a way that suggested permanence. Aunt Lena
to chance, not in this eyesight or any other. The field would
with four of her pack dogs pulling brought the beautiful
always have a fresh-blown feel to go with the enchanting
timber to the site. Uncle Johnny edged the logs to form-fit
scent of new flowers rooted in patches of purple, gold, and
arrow-straight and seal tight against the wind. It was labor
green. The horses would shake their manes and long after
in the name of duty. Three sisters and the brother put to a
in a faraway tone I would hear the bells which hung on their
decency test on behalf of a semi-invalid elder. The house
necks. Time comes in patches at six years of age and choppy
on the other side, a little bigger built to family size by Uncle
even without the wind. I could not see downriver because of
Johnny and his brother-in-law. Again, pack dogs (Figure 6)
the trees and the creaking alders, but I could see upriver and
built to power shoulder-deep snow aside were put to pulling
it was a child’s forever right from the front of the cabin to the
in harnesses. In quick succession, Frank’s house and finally
ours the last in line. Still caught, two other homes never
Figure 1. Nabesna glacier in 1983.
completed, abandoned in mid-stride as it were when the
27
Photo courtesy of Al Clayton Sr.
Figure 3. Jack Justin’s cabin.
Figure 4. Wilson Justin, Aunt Lena, and Calvin Justin.
28
Figure 5. Jack the Vietnam veteran’s cabin about sixteen miles
from Nabesna Village.
Figure 6. Pack dogs.
village emptied out. The next trail over, Shorty Frank took
the shadows and hammered out a name there in the woods.
Scattered here and there were tent frames, some of Northway,
some of Chisana, but all empty and foreboding by the time I
began to run the short footpaths between the non-neighbors.
Even as new houses were left to gleam in the sun I could look
up far past the trees and sudden flatness of the airfield and
see right past the big outcrop of rock that defined the meeting
room for the Jacksina River and the Nabesna River. It would
always be there, the big white fortress of ice spilling light into
the valley, resisting the night, never resting, never sleeping.
Godfrey went off to another village late that summer. His
Dad came down and took him to the trail and then there was
only the quiet wind and low murmur of the river. I stayed with
my Aunt Lena. In the early morning she would take her 22
rifle and go to the hills for supper beckons early in our lives. I
would climb up on a small platform of crossed saplings with a
dog tied to the tree underneath and I would wait the day out
until sometime late when my aunt would return from the snare
line or the fish creek. The rare days when my aunt was able
to stay close to the settlement, I would walk out to the field,
and try as I might, I could not fathom the why of being the
only two persons in a settlement still new. I did not know the
lessons nor did I care that I was being tutored. The day would
linger, the trees would sigh, eventually all the little critters
would make their way to the dens or to the nesting places. I
would look long at the falling sunlight and turn to the last cast
of the glacier. It would be there; it would always be there.
The summer had not ended when I, too, was put to the
trail. We were the last two out of Nabesna. My Aunt Lena,
me, and her four pack dogs. I don’t remember the trip, but I
can always feel the upwelling that comes when understanding
finally sinks in that something had taken over and it was all
really shadows. Somewhere down the trail we found a second
home, or I guess I should say, another place to camp. But it
wasn’t the same and I wanted to go back, and I did as I grew
through the 1960s into the ’70s. I went back over and over
for any number of reasons, but I never saw Nabesna again,
in that light, of that summer under a glacier that promised
to be with us forever, me and my faithful friend Godfrey.
Jack came back and began painfully to rebuild his life from
the sickness that put him into a sanitarium for a good while.
Figure 7. The river in 1980, eating away at the WWII airfield.
Figure 8. Taking the family back to Nabesna.
29
Figure 9. Horse packing.
He came back to the cabin built for him and stoically began
measuring the years by the decades. The river rose and fell,
told elsewhere in other stories of climate change and such.
The first time I could look up the river again right out of high
school in 1968, I could see a lot of brush and new growth
along the airfield. I could also see clearly the glacier was
crumbling, and with it all of the sounds of youth and freedom.
The why of being left behind was never answered and never
spoken. No one said anything about the glacier eating itself
up finally to seep into the rocks under its once mighty wings.
The river changed, too, from friend, then, to foe (Figure 7).
Between 1987 and 1997 I took the family back down to
Nabesna (Figure 8). Each trip was a short burst of joy and
freedom, but the leaving would be painful and gasping. The
glacier was long gone and so I finally quit going back to where
it was where I was born, and where my blood runs so deep.
I stayed in the mountains after high school, close to the
ice that filled all the peaks and all the meadows under the
ridges. I grew to be a horseman (Figure 9) and I could tell what
the weather was going to be like days ahead of it happening.
I grew to be one with the sounds of the mountains and
moved under the late autumn full moon with the ease of a
wolf passing amongst the shadows. But each decade the ice
was less. When finally the last of the seven-thousand-foot
30
peaks opened itself to the blue skies, I found myself no
longer willing to be out there. I didn’t know why then
but I knew what had passed was more than what men
would know. There were a few times that I did go back.
During a week’s worth of riding the old trails in 1993, the
immense loneliness stayed with me every step of the way.
I returned again in 1997, but that time I came short. After
three days, I turned towards home and left it at that.
Now that all the horses are gone and there is no chance of
covering those high mountain trails ever again, I sometimes
wonder if forever didn’t come too soon. Maybe I should
have been five years old and then jump to seven years old
and skip the summer in between. And so, I turn eyes now
and then to distant peaks and think, how could the wind
not have told me I would see footsteps of forever and not
know that I did? Our trails are still out there (Figure 10).
Our songs still linger in the trees, our laughter can still
be felt in the shift of the noon sun, but how did I miss
it even when I was right there? So as the shadows steep
in the quiet of the pastures and stop at the edge of the
ravines, I can look back and I can still see that six-year-old
sometime on the edge of the trees and sometimes on
the corner of house. But he always is looking away and I
cannot, although I try, to see what it is he is looking at.
Figure 10. Looking back.
31
32
At’oowu: Tlingit Homeland
By Christina Mills and Mary Beth Moss
Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve contains almost
2.7 million acres of designated wilderness and is one of few
national parks that protect wilderness marine waters. The
area is also the traditional homeland of two Tlingit tribes;
the Gunaaxoo Kwaan who claim the northern coastal
reaches and the Huna Kawoo who settled Glacier Bay
proper, Icy Strait, and long stretches of the outer coast.
Glacier Bay is like a set of concentric circles of meaning,
and to the Tlingit, a community of spirits lie at the very core.
The Tlingit Clans have lived in Sít’ Eeti Gheeyí, the “Bay
in Place of the Glacier” and along Icy Strait and the outer
coast for countless generations; the Tlingit say since time
before memory. For them, the vast stretches of wilderness
are inhabited places, alive with sentient and non-sentient
beings, as well as the spirits of the living and those who have
gone before. Mountains, waterways, rocks, and animals are
all imbued with spirits; each is respected as an individual
and an equal. A deep and enduring connection with this
greater community of life is ingrained in the Tlingit world
view and respectful interaction with all beings ensures
community health. A traditional Tlingit tale recounts the
cataclysmic events that occurred when a young woman
spoke disrespectfully to a glacier, and even today, the tribal
members respectfully refrain from pointing at the slopes of
Mt. Fairweather—Yeik Yi Aaní or “Land of the Spirits.”
Humans have always been an inextricable part of Glacier
Bay’s web of life; the Tlingit are as closely connected to the
land, the water, and the inhabitants of both as they are to
each other. They believe that their continued interaction with
homeland is a sustaining—indeed vital—characteristic of this
place. The Tlingit come to Glacier Bay Wilderness not to be
alone, or to explore a previously unvisited place, but rather
to be in communion with ancestral spirits and to retrace the
footsteps and actions of all those who have visited before
them. In a place that is now called wilderness, the Tlingit
people are never alone, but always in the company of their
living and nonliving relatives; the bear people, the ice people,
Figure 1. (Inset) The Chookaneidi Clan commemorates their
ancestors at the face of Margerie Glacier in Glacier Bay National
Park.
Photo by Mary Beth Moss
Figure 2. Ken Grant, T’akdeintaan Clan Elder at the Ghaanaxháa
sea arch on the outer coast of Glacier Bay.
and all the spirits of the homeland. While many visitors come
to Glacier Bay to witness the spectacle of a whale breaching
or a glacier calving, and are understandably awed by nature’s
exhibitions, the Tlingit would perhaps experience the whale’s
breach and the crumbling ice as communication between
the leviathan, the glacier, and their human clan relatives.
Tlingit culture was shaped by, and remains dependent
upon, continued interaction with homeland. Gathering
food resources is a particularly important traditional
activity, as the process of harvesting is not only a means of
sustaining physical needs, but also a ritual for reconnecting
and engaging with ancestral spirits. Southeast Alaska’s
abundant resources—salmon, halibut, seal, gull eggs, and
berries—allowed the Tlingit ample leisure time to develop
complex social and political systems as well as sophisticated
artistic and ritualistic practices. In essence, Glacier Bay’s
rich array of marine and terrestrial foods made the Tlingit
who they are—a highly structured society with a welldeveloped political, social, artistic, and spiritual tradition.
Traditional foods are gathered and eaten not only to sustain
the body, but also to sustain the culture itself. Restrictions
and regulations that reduce opportunities to hunt, fish,
and gather pose a threat not only to traditional diets and
ways of life, but to the Tlingit ability to participate in the
web of life and connect with the present, past, and future.
The Tlingit concept of at.óowu, meaning “something
owned or purchased” is central to traditional people’s
relationship to Glacier Bay. When an advancing glacier
forced the ancestors from their homeland, a woman
remained, sacrificing her life to appease the glacier. Other
clans were washed out of Lituya Bay by a tidal wave that
decimated their villages and drowned many inhabitants.
To the Tlingit, the loss of these precious lives paid for their
homeland and the stories, songs, clan crests, and regalia
commemorating these losses are the Tlingit “deeds” to place.
The concept of wilderness as defined in the Wilderness
Act is a modern construct that emphasizes the value of places
with little evidence of human change. But the continued
relationship of the Tlingit clans with their homeland is
as much a part of the wilderness character of Glacier
Bay as the glaciers, the trees, and the opportunity for an
unconstrained experience. To some, without Tlingit ties
to the spirits and ancestors, the Glacier Bay Wilderness
would become like a static museum. Perpetuating the
Tlingit language and traditional practices ensures that the
spiritual connection to this place is not lost and that the
Glacier Bay Wilderness remains a living community.
33
34
Economics of Wilderness: Contribution of Alaska
Parks and Wilderness to the Alaska Economy
By Steve Colt and Ginny Fay
Source: Hull and Leask, 2000.
While these economic impacts cannot be completely
attributed to the presence of designated wilderness,
wilderness characteristics are a significant driver of Alaska
Introduction and Background
visitation. In the summer 2001 Alaska Visitor Statistics
What is the economic contribution of wilderness and
Program (AVSP) Visitor Opinion Survey, specific questions
wilderness-protected ecosystems to Alaska’s economy?
regarding wilderness were included. For over 80 percent
Tourism by nonresidents is the primary link that we consider
of respondents, Alaska’s wilderness character and the
between wilderness and the Alaska economy, although
opportunity to see or spend time in wilderness places
subsistence harvests and resident recreation clearly generate
influenced their decision to come to Alaska and was an
value for Alaskans. Here, we synthesize and apply existing data
important factor in trip planning (Table 1). Wilderness was also
and research. We do not consider global ecosystem services
important to a decision to visit
provided by Alaska park lands
Alaska again in the future by
and waters, nor do we assess
73 percent of respondents.
activity that is not captured
Protecting the wilderness
within the Alaska economy.
character of Alaska was also
Figure 1 shows the allocation
important to 87 percent
of Alaska’s 375 million acres.
respondents. Most also of
Approximately 40 percent are
strongly supported rationing
in federal conservation units,
the use of popular wilderness
and approximately 38 percent
areas to protect the natural
of these 150 millions acres
environment (80 percent) and
are designated wilderness.
animal populations (84 perThe Alaska National Interest
cent). Rationing use to protect
Lands Conservation Act
Figure 1. Alaska lands by ownership status.
opportunities for visitors to be
(ANILCA) of 1980 added
alone and away from crowds
most newly designated
was also supported (47 percent) but not as strongly.
conservation units in the form of national wildlife
Data from summer 2012 confirms that Alaska tourism
refuges. The second most important category of
activity revolves around Alaska’s national parks, especially
additions was new national parks and preserves.
Denali (433,000 visitors) and Glacier Bay (359,000 visitors)
(McDowell, 2013). Our analysis of summer 2001 expenditure
Wilderness and Tourism
diaries collected by AVSP suggests that more than half the
The Alaska visitor industry is the only private sector
total amount spent by tourists in Alaska comes from people
basic industry that has grown almost continuously since
who visit Denali. Visitors to Denali in summer 2001 stayed in
statehood and continues to grow. Almost 1.6 million visitors
Alaska for an average of fourteen days, while all other visitors
came to Alaska in summer 2011, and 91 percent of them
averaged only eight days. Denali visitors spent $2,300 per party
came primarily to see the state’s mountains, glaciers, and
per trip, compared with only $1,100 spent by all other visitors.
wildlife (McDowell Group 2012). Alaska’s visitor industry
Similarly, visitors to Katmai National Park and Preserve also
accounted for an estimated 37,800 full- and part-time jobs
spent more days in Alaska and had higher expenditures per
from May 2011 to April 2012, including all direct, indirect,
trip than the average Alaska visitor (Fay and Christensen, 2010).
and induced employment. Estimated peak employment
Several other studies confirm the economic
was 45,000. These jobs resulted in total labor income of
significance of other parks and wilderness areas in Alaska.
$1.24 billion. Visitors spent $1.7 billion in Alaska, most
Fay and Christensen (2010, 2012) found that Katmai
of it in the summer months (McDowell Group 2013).
National Park and Preserve generated $52.1 million in
annual visitor spending, providing approximately 650
Figure 2. Bear viewing at Katmai National Park and Preserve.
jobs and $24.3 million in labor income (Figure 2).
Photo by Robert Winfree, NPS
35
Economics of Wilderness: Contribution of Alaska Parks and Wilderness to the Alaska Economy
Source: Alaska Visitor Statistics Program, summer 2001 data.
Table 1. Importance of wilderness to Alaska Visitors.
Goldsmith and Martin (2001) used a time-series
approach to assess the effect of Kenai Fjords National
Park on the growth of the economy of Seward, Alaska.
They found a number of indications that the tourism
industry grew rapidly throughout the 1980s and
sustained the Seward economy through the 1990s:
Most of the economic growth, particularly since 1990,
has been driven by the visitor industry. Although there is
no direct way to track this industry, employment in trade,
services, and transportation—the sectors that provide the
most visitor-related jobs—grew at an annual rate of 5.9
percent. Retail sales from summer visitors have grown at
a 9.9 percent annual rate (inflation adjusted) since 1987.
Park tourism is a $52 million-a-year business for Seward.
Goldsmith, Hill, and Hull (1998) analyzed the
economic activity associated with the Alaska Peninsula,
Becharof, Izembek, and Togiak Wildlife Refuges. They
found that these four refuges supported 3,225 average
annual jobs and $127 million of personal income in 1997.
Commercial fishing accounted for about 90% of the jobs
and income. The remaining 362 jobs were attributed to
sport fishing, refuge management, subsistence-related
activities, and hunting. If subsistence activity were
treated as wage labor, it would equate to an additional
750 jobs, and the authors estimated that subsistence also
generated more than $50 million in net economic value.
One of the earliest and most thoughtful studies of
the effects of wilderness on tourism was the master’s
thesis done by Larry Bright (1985). Bright attempted to
measure changes in tourism use patterns resulting from
36
the creation of six designated wilderness areas within
the Tongass National Forest. He collected primary
data directly from tourism business operators.
Bright was very careful not to read too much into his
survey results. Nonetheless, he concluded:
I have come to the conclusion that designation [of Misty
Fjords Wilderness] has played a significant role [in the
increased use of the area]….The dramatic jump in Misty
Fjords use occurred during and immediately following
the designation (1980/81), while use in surrounding areas
continued to grow at a much slower pace.
Some of the most convincing evidence supporting the
designation effect comes from the operators themselves.
Every Misty Fjords operator I interviewed stated that they
used its official designation promotionally. The operators
offering services in 1980 told me that the designation gave
them a nationally recognizable name to advertise. (p. 33)
Bright also proposed that wilderness designation
was likely only one of six distinct inputs to the
increased production (and consumption) of tourism
in southeast. Designation as a special area was one
(p 68). The others, in Bright’s own words, were:
1. access—a site must be reachable within a reasonable amount of time and by a reasonable mode of
transportation . . . In most cases, boat or plane are the
two most reasonable mechanisms of transportation.
2.the tourists must be “reachable”—there must be an
available market in which the tourism operator can
“peddle the goods.” If cruise ships did not stop in Ketchikan
and provide a market, scenic flights of [sic] Misty Fjords
would not have developed to the present day level.
3.a single, dramatic attraction—like a large glacier
(Hubbard), many glaciers (Glacier Bay), or
an outstanding salmon stream (Situk).
4.promotional skills and equipment—in many parts of
Southeast boats or planes must be available to access an
area. As well as the equipment, individuals must be present
with the promotional skills to initiate a tourism enterprise.
5.facilities—probably less a factor in Alaska than in other
parts of the U.S. (p. 68)
Haley, Fay, and Angvik (2007) found that proximity to
national parks was the strongest predictor of the number
and variety of businesses in small rural Alaska villages
with populations less than 1,400 people, places where
wage income is especially scarce. This study’s conclusion
echoes other studies using U.S. data. These studies show
that rural areas endowed with natural resource amenities,
such as wilderness, experience higher regional economic
growth rates (Deller et al. 2001, Rasker et al. 2004). Both
the amount and proximity of public land was correlated
with faster economic growth of adjacent areas (Rasker et al.
2004). Recent studies of western counties and states have
shown that population, income, and employment growth
increased as the percentage of wilderness increased,
and the West’s popular national parks, monuments,
wilderness areas, and other public lands offer its growing
high-tech and services industries a competitive advantage
(Headwaters Economics 2012; Holmes and Hecox 2004).
Maximizing the Economic Value
of Alaska Wilderness
Both economic theory and the evidence to date
suggest that to maximize the long-term economic
benefits of conservation lands, Alaskans and federal
land managers will need to do three things.
The first and most important task is to protect the
“Alaska difference”—those fundamental attributes of
Alaska’s large intact ecosystems and their wilderness
character. This is easier said than done. It is almost
inevitable that individual residents, businesses, and
visitors will, consciously or not, chip away at the integrity
of Alaska’s wildness. In some areas the degradation has
been rigorously measured (Twardock et al. 2010).
Second, Alaskans must be somewhat patient. Time is on
our side when it comes to extracting economic value from
wilderness. The global supply of wilderness is decreasing
while the demand for Alaska nature-based tourism is
Figure 3. A cruise ship navigates through Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve.
37
Economics of Wilderness: Contribution of Alaska Parks and Wilderness to the Alaska Economy
Figure 4. Buses in Denali National Park and Preserve carry thousands of tourists into the park each summer.
Source: Alaska Visitor Statistics Program
Table 2. Alaska summer visitor arrivals by major transportation mode.
38
growing (Colt et al. 2002, Dugan et al. 2009). Taken together,
these shifts in supply and demand mean that the “effective
price” of Alaska’s wilderness is likely to steadily increase.
Finally, it is important to remember that wilderness
and conservation lands are just one of many required
inputs to tourism, subsistence, and fish production. Other
important inputs include environmentally benign physical
access, business talent, and capital investment in supporting
infrastructure. Innovative transportation options that can
bring more people into the Alaska wilderness with less
environmental impact are a good place to start. Cruise ships
(Figure 3) could be powered by natural gas. Double-decker
Denali buses (Figure 4) might increase road capacity without
affecting wildlife (assuming they can be accommodated
without major road reconstruction). Increasing opportunities
for remote rural gateway communities to participate in park
planning could also help local residents to capture more jobs
and income from their neighboring lands (Fay et al. 2005).
Looking ahead, it is clear that Alaska’s wilderness
ecosystems will become increasingly valuable assets in
a crowded urban world. If Alaska’s wildlands, wildlife,
and ecological integrity are cared for with respect, the
contribution of wilderness and conservation lands to
the Alaska economy and to people everywhere will
be significant, positive, increasing, and enduring.
REFERENCES
Bright, L. 1985.
Patterns of tourism in southeast Alaska: an analysis of the
impact of wilderness designations on the tourism industry.
Fairbanks: M.S. Thesis, School of Agriculture and Land
Resources Management.
Colt, S., S. Martin, J. Mieren, and M. Tomeo. 2002.
Recreation and tourism in south-central Alaska: patterns
and prospects. General Technical Report PNW-GTR-551.
Portland, OR: U.S. Department of Agriculture, Forest Service,
Pacific Northwest Research Station.
Deller, S., T. Tsai, D. Marcouiller, and D. English. 2001.
The Role of Amenities and Quality of Life in Rural Economic
Growth. American Journal of Agricultural Economics. 83(2),
352–365.
Dugan, D; G. Fay, H. Griego, and S. Colt. 2009.
Nature-based tourism in Southeast Alaska. Anchorage: ISER
Working Paper 2009.1. http://www.iser.uaa.alaska.edu/Publications/workingpapers/WP2009%201_SEnbt_final.pdf
Fay, G., and N. Christensen. 2012.
Economic Significance Analysis of Visitation to Remote
Alaska Public Lands: A Case Study of Katmai National Park
and Preserve. The George Wright Society Forum, vol. 29, no.
1, 2012.
Fay, G., and N. Christensen. 2010.
Katmai National Park and Preserve Economic Impact
Analysis and Model Documentation. Prepared for National
Park Conservation Association and National Park Service,
Katmai National Park and Preserve.
Fay, G., S. Miller, and D. McCollum. 2005.
Tourism Development Opportunities in Rural National Park
Gateway Communities in Alaska. Prepared for the National
Park Service.
Goldsmith, S., A. Hill, and T. Hull. 1998
Economic assessment of Bristol Bay area national wildlife
refuges: Alaska Peninsula/Becharof, Izembek, Togiak.
Prepared for U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Anchorage:
Institute of Social and Economic Research.
Goldsmith, S., and S. Martin. 2001.
ANILCA and the Seward economy. Anchorage: Institute of
Social and Economic Research. www.iser.uaa.alaska.edu/
Publications/ANILCA_Final.pdf
Haley, S., G. Fay, and J. Angvik. 2007.
Viable Business Enterprises for Rural Alaska. Anchorage:
University of Alaska Anchorage, Institute of Social and
Economic Research. Prepared for the USDA, Rural
Development-Alaska.
Headwaters Economics. 2012.
West Is Best: Protected Lands Promote Jobs and Higher
Incomes. Bozeman: Headwaters Economics.
Holmes, F., and W. Hecox. 2004.
Does Wilderness Impoverish Rural Regions? International
Journal of Wilderness, 10(3), 34-39.
Hull, T., and L. Leask. 2000.
Dividing Alaska, 1867-2000: changing land ownership and
land management. Alaska Review of Social and Economic
Conditions 32(1) (November): 1-16.
McDowell Group. 2012.
Alaska Visitor Statistics Program VI Summer 2011. Prepared
for State of Alaska Department of Commerce, Community,
& Economic Development, Division of Economic
Development. http://commerce.alaska.gov/dnn/Portals/6/
pub/TourismResearch/AVSP/2011and2012/Summer/02%20
2011AVSP-FullReport.pdf
McDowell Group. 2013.
Economic Impact of Alaska’s Visitor Industry 2011-12.
http://commerce.alaska.gov/dnn/Portals/6/pub/Visitor_Industry_Impacts_2_13.pdf
Rasker, R., B. Alexander, J. van den Noort, and J. Carter. 2004.
Prosperity in the 21st Century West: The Role of Protected
Public Lands. Tucson: Sonoran Institute.
Twardock, P., C. Monz, M. Smith, and S. Colt. 2010.
Long-term changes in resource conditions on backcountry
campsites in Prince William Sound, Alaska USA. Northwest
Science 84(3): 223-232.
39
40
What Future for the Wildness of Wilderness
in the Anthropocene?
By Roger Kaye
Nobel laureate Paul Crutzen and other Earth-system
scientists who advanced the Anthropocene concept describe
the state it encapsulates:
NPS photo
Of all the sweeping conservation laws of the 1960s that
came about in response to concern over the worsening
Human activities have become so pervasive and profound
environmental degradations accompanying the prosperous
that they rival the great forces of Nature and are pushing
post-World War II march of progress, the Wilderness Act of
the Earth into planetary terra incognita. The Earth is
1964 most expanded the boundaries of conservation thinking.
rapidly moving into a less biologically diverse, less forested,
The rapid loss of natural landscapes, the destructive logging,
much warmer, and probably wetter
mining, and agricultural practices, the
and stormier state. (Steffen et al. 2007)
spread of pollution and pesticides, and
the awesome power and fallout of the
Since Bill McKibben’s 1989
atomic bomb had signaled a new order
pronouncement of “The End of Nature,”
of environmental threat. Biologist and
findings from the ecological and physical
Wilderness Society president Olaus Murie
sciences have documented the pervasive
(1960) summarized it as “the real problem
globalization of human influence on
of what the human species is to do with
protected areas, including wilderness.
this earth.” He and other leaders of the
Everywhere, the degree to which
growing wilderness movement sought
broad scale environmental changes are
legislation reaching beyond the traditional
anthropogenic or “natural” in origin
conservation of resources to the
are becoming less distinguishable,
protection of entire ecosystems. But their
and more synergistic. The recent
Wilderness Act went beyond protecting
text Beyond Naturalness (Cole and
all components of a designated area’s
Yung 2010) raised awareness of the
natural condition. Going further than any
now problematic goal of maintaining
previous conservation initiative, it also
natural conditions—that is, apart from
specified perpetuation of the evolutionary
human influence—that had always
process of their origin, their wildness.
guided stewardship of protected
Compromises have been made in
areas. And now National Park Service
meeting the act’s mandate for preserving Figure 2. A meandering river within the
Western Arctic National Parklands.
(NPS) director Jonathan Jarvis has
both an area’s natural conditions and
declared that “the paradigm of allowing
its wildness. Nevertheless, wilderness
nature to rule the parks is no longer viable.” “Now the
status has been quite successful in protecting both from
challenge before us,” he said, “is to see the world with
development, resource exploitation, harmful public uses,
nature and humans intertwined.” (Jarvis 2010).
and the like—the focal threats of the 1950s and early 1960s.
This increasingly intertwined world of the Anthropocene
Visionary as it was, however, the Wilderness Act did
will exacerbate tensions between the goals of perpetuating a
not anticipate today’s human-driven, global-scale changes.
wilderness area’s wildness and its other natural conditions.
Nor did the act anticipate how such changes undermine
One underlying problem is that the act specifies that a
basic assumptions about “natural” conditions. It could not
wilderness be managed to perpetuate its wild “untrammeled”
anticipate the emerging post-natural era of the Anthropocene.
condition and also “so as to preserve its natural conditions”
(Sec. 2[c]). Although the act did not define “natural
The Anthropocene
conditions,” the Congressional Record shows that
Figure 1. A wolf pack moves across frozen river ice in Yukonproponents intended that wilderness would perpetuate
Charley Rivers National Preserve.
resource conditions such as wildlife species, their habitats,
Photo courtesy of Sandy Hamilton, Arctic Air Alaska
41
What Future for the Wildness of Wilderness in the Anthropocene?
NPS photo
Figure 3. Caribou in the Western Arctic National Parklands.
ecosystems, and historic viewsheds, “unimpaired” (Sec.
2[a]); or essentially as they were at the time of designation.
A larger problem is that the act also specifies that its
purposes are to be “within and supplemental” to the purposes
of national parks, wildlife refuges, forests, and Bureau of Land
Management (BLM) areas that are designated as wilderness
(Sec. 4[a]). National park wilderness areas, for example,
remain subject to the 1916 NPS purpose of conserving scenery,
natural objects, and wildlife “unimpaired”. National wildlife
refuges, for example, retain their statutory purposes and
other mandates to perpetuate specific high value species.
The Dilemma of Wilderness Stewardship
42
NPS photo
The dilemma of wilderness stewardship (Cole and Yung
2010), as this has come to be called, is that in many and
perhaps most wilderness areas, focal species and other
favored natural conditions will not be perpetuated without
management interventions. These will be needed if areas
are to resist or adapt to global-scale impacts. Where the
hope is to regain lost conditions, restoration efforts may be
needed. Such actions would compromise or be antithetical
to preserving the area’s wild, untrammeled condition.
What then should we as wilderness stewards do? We
should start with the admonitions of Howard Zahniser,
chief author of the Wilderness Act, who warned against
management programs that would erode wild character.
“We must always remember,” he stated, “that the essential
quality of wilderness is its wildness” (Zahniser 1992).
Interventions in wilderness should never be considered
unless absolutely essential to meeting other mandates.
But in light of the emerging conflict among purposes
that Zahniser and the other framers of the Wilderness Act
could not have foreseen, and considering the inevitable calls
to prevent loss of favored resources, can we realistically
expect that all 109 million acres of the nation’s 757
wilderness areas will be managed for real wildness?
Unfortunately, no. As a solution, ecologist Daniel Botkin
(1990) proposed a divided wilderness system. Some areas
would be designated as “pre-agricultural wilderness”
wherein conditions would be maintained as they were
when first viewed by Europeans. “No-action wilderness”
would remain “untouched by direct human actions, no
matter what happens.” Fearing a homogenized wilderness
system wherein both wildness and natural conditions are
“compromised everywhere, and optimized nowhere,”
ecologist David Cole (2000) proposed an approach for
“allocating separate lands to each opposing value and
embracing diversity.” Some wilderness units could be
designated as true hands-off, nonintervention areas where
wildness is preeminent. Within them, ecological systems
would be allowed to adapt and evolve as they will.
We would need to accept that “natural conditions”
Figure 4. Musk ox in Cape Krusenstern National Monument.
disconcerting. The alternative, however, is incremental
and cumulative erosion of wildness everywhere.
But in an era of ubiquitous anthropogenic
effects that influence, if only ever so slightly, the
evolutionary trajectory of every landscape, can we
perpetuate real wildness anywhere? Yes, wildness,
that evocative and elusive quality of wilderness, can
be a permanent legacy, if correctly understood.
What is Wildness?
Delving into the etymology of wild, historian Roderick
Nash (1982) traces its early Teutonic and Norse language
origins to the root word will, meaning self-willed, or
uncontrollable. This follows Henry David Thoreau’s
NPS photo
will change and some preferred species, for example, will
decline or be replaced by others more suited to changing
conditions. In such areas we would accept that their
purpose is not to perpetuate their current components
and biotic assemblages. Instead, their purpose would be
to protect the unfettered processes of their creation.
True, anthropogenic effects will have changed the
conditions that evolution responds to, but the processes
by which evolution responds would remain autonomous.
They would remain untrammeled, free of conscious
intent, and not otherwise subject to the projection of
human desire. This approach would require forgoing all
interventions and restoration efforts—even, for example,
removal of invasive species. Hold them off at the border
if you can, but once established, they are part of the
“natural order” of what may become a novel ecosystem.
Neither remoteness nor a wild-by-default strategy will
assure permanent perpetuation of wildness anywhere.
Deliberate, proactive choices need to be made. To facilitate
them, agency wilderness policies would need to be revised
to prescribe a procedure for deciding where or to what
degree each wilderness area’s wildness purpose or its other
purposes will have primacy, where maintaining one would
compromise the other. Some laws underlying these policies
may need to be amended. Decisions would need to be
informed by science, but they must be made in the social and
political arenas, considering many factors, including probable
effects on high-value resources and effects on adjacent lands.
Difficult choices and painful tradeoffs would be inevitable.
Yes, the prospect of a divided wilderness system is awfully
Figure 5. Backpacking on Sanford Plateau in Wrangell-St. Elias
National Park and Preserve.
NPS Photo by Cindy Gonterman
Figure 6. Wolves in Denali National Park and Preserve.
43
What Future for the Wildness of Wilderness in the Anthropocene?
Figure 8. A backpacker on glacial moraine in Wrangell-St. Elias
National Park and Preserve.
succinct definition: “Wild—past particle of to will, self
willed” (Turner 1996). But Thoreau knew nature has no
will per se; he began the tradition of describing wildness
in terms of its antithesis: not subject to human will.
Early wilderness movement leader Robert Marshall
summarized this central condition of wilderness as “its
entire freedom from the manifestations of human will . . .”
(1956). Marshall’s friend Zahniser went on to describe this
freedom as “untrammeled” which he defined as “not being
subject to human controls and manipulations that hamper
the free play of natural forces” (Zahniser 1959). Untrammeled
became the key word in the Wilderness Act’s definition of
wilderness as “where the earth and its community of life
are untrammeled by man.” Murie (1960) called it simply
“nature’s freedom.” Based on the intent of those who most
influenced and wrote the Wilderness Act, wildness can thus
be defined as . . . a condition of a landscape characterized by its
freedom from the human intent to alter, control, or manipulate
its components and ecological and evolutionary processes.
Wild, then, is not synonymous with pristine or
virgin. Rather, it is the state wherein those evolutionary
processes of an area’s genesis—free from human purpose,
utility, or design—are allowed to shape its future. Thus,
not requiring the absence of all human effect, wildness
can persist in environments that have been altered or
continue to be influenced by external human factors
such as climate change—as long as we refrain from
interfering with nature’s autonomous response.
Most readily recognized by the managing agencies
are the ecological and scientific reasons for perpetuating
the wild landscape condition. As Aldo Leopold
(1949) espoused, wild areas can serve as baselines for
understanding how unmanaged ecological systems
respond to anthropogenic change. They can serve as a
“control” for assessing the effectiveness of interventions
and restoration efforts implemented elsewhere.
“The Need for Wilderness Areas” (1956), is Zahniser’s
canonical essay explaining the intent of his pending
wilderness bill (and part of the act’s legislative history).
In it Zahniser included these and recreational and
aesthetic values as among the reasons for the legislation.
But he emphasized that most importantly, wild areas
could serve as reference points “essential to a true
understanding of ourselves, our culture, our own natures,
and our place in all nature.” He went on to explain:
The Human Relationship Dimension
Challenging our understanding of wildness is the fact that
it depends upon our willingness to leave an area’s functioning
outside the realm of our volition. And because it is therefore a
landscape condition dependent upon human intent, wildness
is at once both a landscape condition and a human-nature
relationship. Both are legacies we should leave to the future.
44
NPS photo
NPS photo
Figure 7. A curious wolverine in Gates of the Arctic National
Park and Preserve.
This need is for areas of the earth within which
we stand without our mechanisms that make us
immediate masters over our environment—areas
of wild nature in which we sense ourselves to be,
what in fact I believe we are, dependent members
of an interdependent community of living creatures
that together derive their existence from the Sun.
Therein Zahniser summarized a need underpinning the
wilderness idea (and now, also the Anthropocene concept).
That is the need for an expanded world-view, to see
ourselves in relation to all life, in the larger scheme of things.
Why Wildness?
When we left our origins as creatures of the wild
and embarked on the Neolithic project of altering, then
controlling our immediate environment, we began changing
the Earth, and changing who we are in relation to it. Today
we are not “part and parcel with nature” as Thoreau (1862)
understood nature. We are no longer the same members of
the life community Zahniser (1956) described. We are already
well past being “only fellow voyagers with other creatures
in the odyssey of evolution” as Leopold (1949) wrote.
We should acknowledge and look beyond this reality
of our time. We should look well beyond, to the next
century or two of the Anthropocene. Imagine when
synthetic environments, novel and designer ecosystems,
domesticated DNA, planetary geoengineering, and
who-knows-what come to be integral to the world
formerly known as natural. We can only speculate as to
which “natural” conditions of wilderness our distant
descendants might wish we had attempted to perpetuate
through efforts to resist or control change. Who knows
what conditions would evolve in areas left free to evolve,
or the consequences of interfering with their adaptation?
Areas left wild can serve as a baseline for understanding
how ecosystems function and transform when left alone.
So too, areas set apart for wildness may serve future
generations as a baseline for understanding their own
nature and their place in nature, whatever forms nature then
takes. Left as living museums of unhampered evolution,
wild areas can be touchstones to ways of knowing and
relating to the world that shaped us as a species. They
can serve as reference points as humankind reshapes its
world. On a planet increasingly permeated with human
intentionality, areas we allow to be there for themselves,
that we allow to become what they will, can stand in
contrast to human hubris. They can counter the dominating
presumption that everything exists in relation to us. As
Nash (1982) emphasizes, their perpetuation would be a
gesture of environmental humility, and an encouraging
demonstration and reminder of our capacity for restraint.
As the naturalness of natural areas continues to
recede, remnant enclaves of wildness can better serve
the age-old quest to understand who we are in relation
to the world. The notion of naturalness has always been
subjective and culture-bound. But wildness, the eternal
process of evolution—of our species and all life, of this
planet, its sun and universe and all others—is the objective,
ultimate, and unifying reality. Wildness is our true, ongoing
creation story. It can be a grounding point, if we will, for
creating an ethic to confront, as Murie (1960) said, “the
real problem of what the human species is to do with
this earth.” Intangible, immeasurable, nonutilitarian:
The otherness of wildness is a resource in itself.
The question of what future for wildness within
our conservation estate confronts us with paradox,
the notion of areas, as Zahniser said, “that are so
managed as to be unmanaged.” Wildness challenges
us with the irony that self-willed places will only
continue through our will. To have areas free of human
purpose must be a resolute human purpose.
REFERENCES
Cole, D. 2011.
Planned Diversity. International Journal of Wilderness. 17
(2): 9-14.
Murie, O. 1960.
Letter from Murie to Hon. E. L. Bartlett, August 17, 1961.
Author’s files.
Cole, D. and L. Yung. 2010.
Beyond Naturalness: Rethinking Park and Wilderness
Stewardship in an Era of Rapid Change. Washington, D.C.:
Island Press.
Nash, R. 1982.
Wilderness and the American Mind. 3rd ed. New Haven:
Yale University Press.
Jarvis, J. 2010.
Uncertain Path: A Search for the Future of the National
Parks. Forward Berkeley: University of California Press.
Leopold, A. 1949.
A Sand County Almanac. New York: Oxford University Press
Inc.
Marshall, R. 1956.
Alaska Wilderness. Berkekey: University of California Press.
McKibben, B. 1989.
The End of Nature. New York: Anchor Books, Doubleday.
Murie, O. 1961.
Wilderness Philosophy, Science, and the Arctic National
Wildlife Range. Science in Alaska. Alaska Division of the
American Association for the Advancement of Science.
Steffen, W., P. Crutzen, and J. McNeill. 2007.
The Anthropocene: Are Humans Now Overwhelming the
Great Forces of Nature? Ambio 36 (8): 614-621.
Thoreau, H. 1862.
Walking. Atlantic Monthly, June issue.
Turner, J. 1996.
The Abstract Wild. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Zahniser, E. ed. 1992.
Where Wilderness Preservation Began: Adirondack Writings
of Howard Zahniser. Utica, NY: North Country Books.
Zahniser, H. 1956.
The Need for Wilderness Areas. Living Wilderness. 59: 37-43.
45
46
Using Ethics Arguments to Preserve Naturalness:
A Case Study of Wildlife Harvest Practices on
NPS Lands in Alaska
By Grant Hilderbrand
Wildlife Stewardship on NPS Lands in Alaska
Recognizing the challenges described above, an
interdisciplinary group convened in the winter of 2012 to
The majority of Alaska National Park units identify
develop a single source for consolidated guidance on the
wildlife conservation as a central purpose in their founding
NPS’s roles and responsibilities regarding wildlife stewardship
legislation. Further, most of these lands are also designated
in Alaska. Participating members from the NPS included staff
wilderness where the National Park Service (NPS) is required
from the Alaska and Midwest regions, the Washington, D.C.,
to preserve naturalness. Thus maintaining and preserving
office, and the Biological Resources Management Division.
natural populations, behaviors, and systems—that is,
Disciplines represented included regional directorate
naturalness—is a core function
members, superintendents,
of the Alaska region (Figure 2).
biologists, social scientists,
The responsibility to
program managers, law
maintain natural wildlife
enforcement, solicitors,
populations is challenging due
subsistence specialists,
to both inherent and external
and university faculty.
factors. By their nature,
Hilderbrand and Joly et al.
populations of many wildlife
(2013) developed a peerspecies vary dramatically in
reviewed report following the
response to natural ecological
meeting to serve as a focused
processes or as part of their life
reference on Alaskan wildlife
history (for example, caribou,
stewardship for NPS staff
lynx and hare). In addition,
as they evaluate the myriad
they migrate to and from parks
issues and decisions facing
both seasonally and as part of
the agency and the wildlife
longer term range shifts (Figure Figure 2. Coastal brown bear in Katmai National Park and Preheld in its trust. Key findings
serve. Maintaining and preserving natural populations, behav1). Climate dynamics will no
from the report include: (1)
iors, and systems (for example, naturalness) is a core function of
doubt add to the complexity
the National Park System areas in Alaska.
the NPS is an ecosystem
of wildlife population
steward and this role extends
management in the future.
to all components of the ecosystem, both living and nonliving,
Because wildlife does not honor political boundaries,
and the processes that link them (Figure 4); (2) the primary
Alaska NPS shares management duties with others
objective of the NPS in Alaska is to maintain natural processes,
(federal agencies, the State of Alaska, Native organizations,
including the natural distributions, densities, age-class
private land owners, and our Canadian counterparts).
distributions, species assemblages, and behaviors of native
Over the past decade, the State of Alaska has emphasized
species; (3) these responsibilities apply to all NPS lands (that
the production of preferred game species through
is, parks, preserves, and monuments) equally and without
liberalized predator harvest and management programs
exception; (4) sport and subsistence harvest are allowed on
(Figure 3). This approach is difficult to rectify with
preserves and subsistence harvest is allowed within specified
the NPS mandate to maintain natural processes.
parks and monuments; (5) harvest activities must be consistent
with NPS resource mandates and the duty to maintain natural
processes supersedes harvest authorizations; and (6) when
Figure 1. For caribou, long-distance migration can require
uncertain, NPS should err on the side of conservation.
The Challenge
multiple, sometimes hazardous, river crossings.
47
Using Ethics Arguments to Preserve Naturalness: A Case Study
Figure 3. NPS conservation policies favor continuity of natural processes over expanded production of preferred game species (such as
moose shown here) through liberalized predator harvest and management programs.
Photo courtesy of Robert Winfree, NPS
Wildlife Stewardship in Practice: The Case Study of
Bear Baiting
Figure 4. National park managers are ecosystem stewards, a
role that extends to all components of the ecosystem, both
living and nonliving, and to the processes that link them. Dall
sheep, shown here in Denali National Park and Preserve, have
evolved for using the relative safety of rocky crags to avoid
wolf predation.
The harvest of black bears (Figure 5) over bait under
both state and federal regulations and on state and federal
lands has long been legal in Alaska. In 2012, the State of
Alaska authorized the harvest of brown bears over bait in
portions of Alaska, including several national preserves.
Prior to this regulatory change, the harvest of brown
bears over bait was not legal in any North American
state or province. To evaluate the potential effects of this
authorization on brown bear harvest on national preserves,
Hilderbrand, Rabinowitch et al. (2013) evaluated the only
relevant data available: historic harvest records of black
bears over bait on National Park Service (NPS) lands. The
authors concluded that there was little to no conservation
concern as less than 2 black bears per year were harvested
over bait during 1992-2010 on the 55 million acres of NPS
lands in Alaska (Hilderbrand, Rabinowitch et al. 2013).
However, NPS has specific regulatory and policy guidance
to (1) prohibit the feeding of wildlife; (2) maintain natural
behaviors; and (3) maintain natural ecological processes (36
CFR 2.2 (a)(2), NPS Management Policies 2006). Further, both
the General Authorities Act of 1978 and NPS Management
Policies (2006) direct the NPS to promote “park values.” Thus,
the data did not indicate any adverse impacts to bears at a
population scale, but an explicit value decision remained.
A Rigorous and Objective Evaluation of a
“Value” Issue
Recently, the field of conservation ethics and applied
argument analyses has emerged as a way to address valuecentered issues through an objective, transparent, and
rigorous process. The North American model of wildlife
management (Nelson et al. 2011), assisted colonization
(Lawler and Olden 2011), reintroductions and wilderness
48
Figure 5. The harvest of black bears over bait has long been
legal in Alaska on state and federal lands and under both state
and federal regulations.
(Vucetich et al. 2012), endangered species management
and recovery (Vucetich et al. 2006, Carroll et al. 2010),
sustainability (Vucetich and Nelson 2010), and ethics of
animal research (Vucetich and Nelson 2007) have been
informed by logic models and argument analysis.
The applied field of conservation ethics originates in the
humanities, not in science, and addresses the fundamental
question of what “should” or “ought” we do (Vucetich
and Nelson 2012). Arguments constructed of premises and
conclusions are developed through an iterative process. If
all the premises are true or appropriate, no premises are
missing, and the conclusion is supported by the premises,
then a valid argument has been developed. Much like a
scientific hypotheses, these arguments are never proven
and can change through time as premises (for example,
empirical, ethical, societal) change (Vucetich and Nelson 2012).
The hunting of black bears over bait is an authorized
harvest practice in many states and provinces in North
America. The practice of bear baiting touches on a variety
of social or ethical issues including fair chase, habituation,
food-conditioning, public safety, and naturalness (Herrero
2002, Teel et al. 2002). Due to these nonbiological complexities,
the application of argument analyses was used as a tool to
inform a wildlife regulatory decision. The initial argument was
developed and shared with nine initial reviewers. Following
iterative revision, the argument was sent to four additional
reviewers. The reviewers included bear managers (including
those managing bear baiting programs); bear researchers; state
and federal agencies; universities; and the fields of ecology,
wildlife management, and ethics. Following further revision,
the argument was presented to the 22nd International
Conference on Bear Research and Management held
in Provo, Utah, in August of 2013. Comments and
discussion at the conference led to further refinement
and the argument that follows (Hilderbrand, in review):
The Argument
Empirical Premises
• Bears exhibit strong attraction to food (both natural
and anthropogenic (Figure 6) and a variety of these
food items can be used successfully as bait;
• The use of bait facilitates the harvesting of
bears by predictably attracting them to a known
location (Figure 7) and is thus essentially equivalent to other forms of food conditioning;
• Anthropogenic food-conditioned bears are more likely
to be killed in defense of life or property than bears
that are not conditioned to anthropogenic foods;
• Anthropogenic food-conditioned bears are more
likely to pose a public safety risk than bears that
are not conditioned to anthropogenic foods in
areas where hunting or firearms are prohibited;
• Bears are successfully harvested without using
bait, though baiting can greatly increase opportunity and success rate in some areas; and
• Feeding of wildlife is prohibited under
state and NPS regulations.
NPS Photo by Cindy Gonterman
Figure 6. Salmon spawning seasonally attracts large aggregations of bears to many Alaska rivers, including Katmai National Park and
Preserve, shown here. Given bears’ naturally strong attraction to food odors, a wide variety of natural and anthropogenic foods can
also be used successfully as bait.
49
Using Ethics Arguments to Preserve Naturalness: A Case Study
Ethical Premises
• Creating unnecessary risks to bears, a public
trust resource, should be avoided;
• Creating public safety risks should be avoided; and
• Natural animal behaviors and ecological
processes should be maintained.
Societal Premises
• Bears have intrinsic value to humans (for
example, cultural, economic, ecological);
• Opinions on hunting in general and bear hunting and use of bait specifically, vary; and
• Subsistence harvest is part of the natural
processes of Alaska NPS units.
Conclusion: Use of bait should not be an allowed
method of harvesting bears on NPS lands in Alaska.
Complex management decisions regarding our
natural resources are derived from a combination of
scientific information and social influences. Taken
in total, the decision to prohibit the harvest of bears
of either species over bait is logically and ethically
sound. This outcome was largely driven by the desire
to preserve naturalness, promote public safety, and
maintain the value of bears as a public trust resource.
Next Steps
The NPS has prohibited the harvest of brown bears
over bait through formal closure provisions in federal
statute and regulations since the authorization of the
practice in 2012. As part of the closure process, NPS
provides notice, holds hearings, and receives public
comment on proposed closures or restrictions. As part
of these comments, numerous individuals have inquired
about the appropriateness of the harvest of black bears
over bait on NPS lands. The Alaska Region of NPS is
currently developing a permanent regulations package
addressing several wildlife harvest-related topics. As part
of this process, we are explicitly requesting input from the
public on the topic of brown and black bear harvest over
bait. Thus, the decision to prohibit or allow this practice
will likely be addressed definitively in the near future.
Photo by Rich Richotte, NPS
Figure 7. A black bear bait station within Wrangell-St. Elias National Preserve.
50
Conclusion
As resource professionals, our typical role is to design
research programs, collect and analyze scientific data,
and then present and publish our work through credible
professional organizations and journals. The information is
then used to support decisions that benefit the conservation
of NPS natural resources and processes that link them. The
ultimate goal, succinctly, is the preservation of populations,
behaviors, and systems (that is, naturalness) (Figure 8).
However, the answer rarely, if ever, lies solely in the data.
Often the question is not even one of biology, but rather one
of values. In these cases, nonscientific tools such as argument
analyses that are rigorous, transparent, and objective are
available, appropriate, and informative. For natural resource
professionals, using such tools may be the correct approach
to support or enhance NPS decisions related to wildlife.
Figure 8. Parallel tracks of bear and
wolf in river mud, encountered along
a caribou migratory route in Gates of
the Arctic National Park and Preserve.
REFERENCES
Carroll, C., J. Vucetich, M. Nelson, D. Rohlf, and M. Phillips.
2010.
Geography and recovery under the U.S. Endangered Species
Act. Conservation Biology 24:395-403.
Nelson, M., J. Vucetich, P. Paquet, and J. Bump. 2011.
An inadequate construct? North American model: What’s
flawed, what’s missing, what’s needed. The Wildlife
Professional 4:58-60.
Code of Federal Regulations.
Title 36: Parks, Forests, and Public Property. Washington,
D.C.: Office of the Federal Registrar. U.S. Government
Printing Office.
Teel, T., R. Krannich, and R. Schmidt. 2002.
Utah stakeholders’ attitudes toward selected cougar and
black bear management practices. Wildlife Society Bulletin
30:2-15.
Herrero, S. 2002.
Bear Attacks: Their Causes and Avoidance. Guilford, Conn.:
The Lyons Press.
Vucetich, J., and M. Nelson. 2007.
What are 60 warblers worth? Killing in the name of
conservation. Oikos 116:1267-1278.
Hilderbrand, G., K. Joly, S. Rabinowitch, and B. Shults. 2013.
Wildlife stewardship in National Park Service areas in
Alaska: A report to the Alaska Leadership Council Sub-group
on Wildlife Harvest on Parklands. Natural Resource Report
NPS/AKSO/NRR-2013/663. Fort Collins: National Park Service.
Vucetich, J., and M. Nelson. 2010.
Sustainability: virtuous or vulgar? Bioscience 60:539-544.
Hilderbrand, G., S. Rabinowitch, and D. Mills. 2013.
Black bear baiting in Alaska and in Alaska’s National Park
Service lands, 1992-2010. Ursus 24:91-96.
Lawler, J., and J. Olden. 2011.
Reframing the debate over assisted colonization. Frontiers
in Ecology and the Environment 9:569-574.
Management Policies. Washington D.C.: Department of the
Interior. U.S. Government Printing Office.
Vucetich, J., and M. P. Nelson. 2012.
A Handbook of Conservation and Sustainability Ethics. CEG
Occasional Paper Series. Issue #1.
Vucetich, J. A., M. Nelson, and R. Peterson. 2012.
Should Isle Royal wolves be reintroduced? A case study
on wilderness management in a changing world. George
Wright Forum 29:126-147.
Vucetich, J., M. Nelson, and M. Phillips. 2006.
The normative dimension and legal meaning of Endangered
and recovery in the U.S. Endangered Species Act.
Conservation Biology 20:1383-1390.
51
52
Searching for Wilderness:
Amchitka Island, Alaska
By Merry Maxwell
Courtesy of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service
I arrived on Amchitka Island (Figure 1) in the early spring of
2011. The island was low lying and covered with fog; everything
looked gray. Puffins flew in and out of crevices and grass covered
burrows; gulls called as we left the ship. Lupines (figure 2) were
blooming everywhere and before I left the island I would rename
the forty-two-mile-long Infantry Road “Lupine Highway”
because of the lilac, plum, violet, and white flowers found in
abundance along the disturbed roadway. The quiet of this place
was a bit unnerving, but I was on an island in the western
Aleutians, more than thirteen hundred miles from the state’s
largest city, and it felt wild to be there. For
just a moment I reflected on how I was
standing on a mountain top that began
five miles below me on the ocean floor,
a fog covered island surrounded by the
North Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea.
1913 (Department of the Interior 1973). The reservation was
originally established as a preserve and breeding ground for
native birds, for the propagation of reindeer and fur bearing
animals, and for the encouragement and development of
fisheries. In the executive order establishing the reservation,
a subordinate paragraph included the following phrase:
“the reservation shall not interfere with the use of the
islands for lighthouse, military or naval purposes.”
Amchitka Island is the largest in the Rat Island group, and
is about forty miles long and 4.5 miles wide with lowlands
on the eastern side and highlands on the western side.
Because of its extreme western location, Amchitka and
other islands in the Aleutians became
important strategic defense posts
during WWII, and later during the Cold
War were important listening posts.
A History of Disturbance and
Violence
During the spring of 1942, the
Amchitka Island was used by the
American Doolittle raid on Tokyo
Aleuts for more than ten thousand
raised the Japanese army’s interest in
years following their migration from
American air bases on the Aleutian
Asia over the southern end of the
Islands (Chandonnet 2008). This
Bering Land Bridge (Merrit and
resulted in the subsequent Japanese
Fuller 1977). The Aleuts depended on
occupation of Kiska, Little Kiska,
marine resources for their survival in
and Attu Islands. Amchitka suddenly
the rich Aleutian environment where
became a vital forward base for
upwelling and deep turbulent mixing
defense of the Aleutians and recapture
created waters rich with nutrients. In
of Japanese-occupied islands, and
1741, Russians discovered the islands
Figure 2. Lupines (Lupin nootkatensis)
cover the island each spring.
to this end, infrastructure for more
and began to exploit these resources,
than sixteen thousand troops was
including the Aleuts. They dominated
constructed on the island. The military continued using
the area until 1867 when the United States purchased
Amchitka Island following the war for more than seven
the State of Alaska, including the Aleutian Islands.
years (Merrit and Fuller 1977) and officially pulled out in
The Aleutian Islands have always been recognized for
1950, but a legacy of military use remains (Figure 4).
wilderness qualities. These far-flung islands are home to
More was in store for this island strategically located
millions of birds (Figure 3); many evolved where only aerial
near Asia. In 1951, the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission
predators like eagles threatened their young. As exploration
and the Department of Defense began using Amchitka
and fur trade activities continued, some people began to
for underground nuclear testing. Three nuclear tests were
realize the very real threat to the fragile island ecosystems.
conducted on Amchitka. The first (Long Shot, eighty kilotons)
To protect the ecological value of these islands the
(Figure 5) was to differentiate seismic signals generated
Aleutians NIslands Reservation was established by Executive
by underground nuclear tests. The second test (Milrow,
Order 1733 signed by President William H. Taft on March 3,
1.2 megatons) was a calibration test to test safety (O’Neill
1994). The third and final test (Cannikin, 5 megatons) was
Figure 1. Rocky southwestern shore of Wilderness Area,
the largest underground nuclear test in U.S. history. The
Amchitka.
blast from Cannikin lifted the ground more than twenty
53
Searching for Wilderness: Amchitka Island, Alaska
Figure 3. Tufted puffins (Fratercula cirrhata) use the island for
nesting.
Figure 4. Anti-personnel stakes (known also as Rommel stakes
or screw pickets) were deployed on Amchitka Island by
American soldiers during WWII. Many remain.
Figure 5. A commemorative plaque marks each nuclear detonation site.
54
feet and was equal to about four hundred times the power
of the Hiroshima bomb, shifting the ground and killing
animals and birds violently (Rausch 1973). The uplift and
following subsidence created a lake over the blast area.
The Alaska Department of Fish and Game reported that
seven hundred to two thousand sea otters were killed by
pressure changes created by the blast (Kohlhoff 2002).
and northerly areas of the island, the highest point on the
island and a road connecting the areas. In other words, the
wilderness area would be surrounded by areas withdrawn
for possible future military use, and a forty-two-mile road
(Figure 7) would bisect it (Department of the Interior 1973).
Indeed, military use of Amchitka was not over. The Cold
War (sustained military tension primarily between the Soviet
The Aleutian Islands Wilderness Area, (1,395,357 acres)
was proposed in 1974 in recognition of unique values of
the Aleutian Islands. When Amchitka was considered
for wilderness three parcels were withheld for possible
defense purposes. These areas included the most southerly
In 2011 I arrived at Amchitka with a party of ten from
the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (Figure 6), University of
Alaska, Department of Energy, S.M. Stoller Corporation,
Aleutian and Pribilof Islands Association, Alaska Department
of Environmental Conservation, and the Argonne National
Laboratory. We were on island to test the waters…literally. We
planned to test a small lake downstream from an abandoned
Navy sewage lagoon known to have polychlorinated biphenyls
or PCBs in it; sample sea creatures, wildlife, and plants for
plutonium and uranium associated with nuclear testing, and test
the waters around Amchitka for tritium which might indicate
leaks from the underground blast chambers. My personal goal
was to visit the designated wilderness area of Amchitka Island.
Figure 6. D. Rudis samples sediments on Amchitka in 2011.
Figure 7. Amchitka Island, bisected by infantry road.
55
Searching for Wilderness: Amchitka Island, Alaska
Union and the United States) escalated in the 1980s and
Amchitka was again a point of focus for the United States.
The Navy built and maintained a prototype Relocatable
Over-The-Horizon Radar (ROTHR) system in order to
listen to the Soviet Union from 1991 until 1993 (Figure 8).
Cleanup and removal of supporting infrastructure began
in earnest after 1993. Buildings were removed and runways
were demolished or abandoned all together. Remarkably,
the two-mile-long Baker Runway, built for bombers but
never used, remains. Today, areas on the south end of
Amchitka are still a concern for the U.S. Army Corps of
Engineers, responsible for cleanup of Amchitka and other
sites within the Aleutians Refuge, now part of the Alaska
Maritime National Wildlife Refuge. These areas include
landfills (Figure 9), unexploded ordnance and buried and
surface fuel drums contaminating soils and the ocean as they
disintegrate and product is released. Other contaminants
remain in lakes and streams following abandonment
of sewage lagoons and other supporting structures.
On our last day on island we drive north through the
wilderness area to check on a ROTHR site at the north end of
the island. As we start up the hills to the west I see the Pacific
Ocean in the distance, green and gold hills, and lakes reflecting
in a shroud of fog and am struck once more by the stillness
of this place. I am on a national wildlife refuge, in the middle
of the Aleutian Chain and my first glimpse of the ROTHR
site shocks me; I am staring at what I will later describe as a
lost Mayan Village—a huge formidable black rock structure
several stories tall. I turn away and spend an hour walking
the black sand beaches, reflecting on the value of wilderness.
What Does the Future Look Like?
The Aleutian Islands are wild. This primeval state is the
result of where these islands are located. Most of the Aleutians
are inaccessible except by ship and are subject to violent
seismic activity and extreme weather, and they see very few
visitors. Established communities are small and isolated.
While restoration on Amchitka progresses and the refuge
works with the military to clean up the island, the future for
this island is still very uncertain. On Amchitka, the natural
healing process has been threatened and disturbed in a
profound way. The legacy of war and nuclear tests remains;
the contaminants and rats introduced during this time
may never be removed, forever changing the diversity of
this island. Ecosystems can usually recover from naturally
occurring disturbances but Amchitka may be irreversibly
changed, preventing literal restoration (Coates 1996). The
actions taken outside of the wilderness area of the island and
the reservation made for future military use should bring into
question the expense and efforts of cleanup and restoration.
Will we restore it and allow it to be compromised again?
But the value of wilderness is more than a place.
The wilderness experience is not determined solely by
the naturalness of the habitat or the biological factors
related to the land; it can also be determined by our
experience as we interact with it. Wilderness is not
an artifact or static place but a system where natural
processes will assert themselves in an effort to heal
and flow toward ecological balance (Elder 2013).
On my last day on Amchitka I walk and reflect on what
we might learn from the history of this place. Could we
consider our nation’s changing military capabilities and allow
this island to return to its purpose as a refuge? Will future
generations wonder if we did our very best to protect it?
The past use of Amchitka is complicated, violent,
and disturbing, but I am hopeful. As I prepare to leave
I walk on the dust of urchins, ground to fine gold and
washing up on black sand beaches. I can still hear the
music of life in this place, and the whisper of a promise
we made to preserve wildlife and wilderness.
Figure 8. “Mayan Ruins,” the three-story platform for a northern Relocatable Over-The-Horizon Radar (ROTHR) site.
56
Figure 9. Buried drilling fuels sign in front of earthen cap.
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Chandonnet, F., ed. 2008.
Alaska at War 1941-1945, The Forgotten War Remembered. Fairbanks: University of Alaska Press.
Coats, P., 1996.
Amchitka, Alaska: toward the bio-biography of an island. Environmental History Vol1 Issue 4 p 20.
Department of the Interior, 1973.
Draft environmental statement, proposed Aleutian Islands Wilderness, Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife, US Department
of the Interior.
Elder, J. 2013.
The Undiscovered County, John Elder on the wild places close to home. The Sun, issue 450.
Kohlhoff, D. 2002.
Amchitka and the Bomb, Nuclear Testing in Alaska. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press.
Merrit and Fuller, 1977.
The Environment of Amchitka Island Alaska, National Technical Information Center, Springfield, Virginia 22161.
O’Neill, 1994.
The Firecracker Boys. New York: St. Martin’s Press.
Rausch, R., 1973.
Post mortem findings in some mammals and birds following the Cannikin test on Amchitka Island, US Atomic Energy
Commission, Nevada Operations office, Las Vegas, NV.
57
58
Busing Through the Wilderness: Managing the
“Near-Wilderness” Experience at Denali
By Robert Manning, William Valliere, and Jeffrey Hallo
Introduction
Six-million-acre Denali National Park and Preserve
is widely known as a wilderness park. But this vast tract
of wild land is bisected by the ninety-mile Denali Park
Road, which crosses boreal forests, subarctic tundra,
large glacial rivers, and prime wildlife viewing areas.
The road corridor is a mere three hundred feet wide,
offering an up close and personal view of wilderness to
the hundreds of thousands of visitors each year who travel
the road on the park’s innovative Visitor Transportation
System (VTS) bus system and commercial tour buses.
This way of experiencing wilderness—it’s been called a
“near-wilderness experience”—is increasingly important
(Hallo & Manning 2010). At Denali, it provides the vast
majority of visitors their primary experience with the park’s
wilderness, allowing visitors to observe wildlife in their
natural habitat and enjoy outstanding scenery. More broadly,
the iconic roads of the national parks such as Going to the
Sun Road at Glacier, Tioga Road in Yosemite, and Acadia’s
Park Loop Road, along with thousands of miles of other
roads that penetrate or skirt many of the country’s wilderness
areas, offer “access” to wilderness to the greatest number of
“wilderness visitors.” This near-wilderness experience should
be managed to help ensure that it is of the highest quality.
Development of a new plan for the Denali Park Road
over the past several years has been a good opportunity to
explore this type of near-wilderness experience. Initial phases
of research to help support this plan identified a number
of potential indictors of quality for the Denali Park Road
experience (Manning & Hallo 2010). Indicators of quality
are measurable, manageable variables that help define the
quality of recreation experiences (Manning 2007; Manning
Figure 1. Tour buses in Denali National Park and Preserve.
NPS photo
2011). Qualitative and quantitative surveys of visitors, along
with other forms of public input, found that potential
indicators of quality include: (1) the number of buses seen
along the road at any one time; (2) the number of buses
seen at informal wildlife stops; (3) the number of buses
at rest stops; (4) the percentage chance of seeing a grizzly
bear; (5) the accessibility of buses (for example, chance of
getting a seat on a bus); and (6) trip length. Respondents
and participants reported that all of these indicators were
important to the quality of the visitor experience.
But which indicators are most important? This question
is especially relevant when some indicator variables may
conflict with others. For example, increasing the number
of buses on the road would enhance accessibility, but it
would also increase the number of buses seen along the
road and at rest stops and informal wildlife stops (see
figures 2-4 for a range of conditions for these indicator
variables). Increasing the number of buses might also
reduce the chance of seeing a grizzly bear and other iconic
wildlife (though the relationship between these variables
is complex). We used a survey and statistical procedure
called stated choice analysis to help determine which
indicators of quality are most important to visitors.
Study Design
The primary study method was a survey administered
to representative samples of bus riders on the Denali
Park Road. The study employed stated choice analysis, a
procedure that was pioneered in business and marketing
applications to evaluate consumer preferences and tradeoffs
among product and service attributes (Green et al. 1988;
Louviere & Timmermans 1990; Lourviere et al. 2000). Stated
choice analysis has also been used in natural resource and
environmental applications (Haider & Ewing 1990; Schroeder
et al. 1990; Adamowicz et al. 1994; Boxall et al. 1996) and
increasingly in park and wilderness management (Lawson
& Manning 2002; Lawson & Manning 2003; Newman et al.
2005; Hunt et al. 2005; Arnberger & Haider 2005; Cahill et al.
59
Busing Through the Wilderness: Managing the “Near-Wilderness” Experience at Denali
Figure 2. Visual simulations for the range of conditions presented for the “buses seen along roads” indicator variable, with zero, two,
and six buses seen along the road.
Figure 3. Visual simulations for the range of conditions presented for the “buses seen at rest stops” indicator variable, with zero, two,
and six buses (and zero, 36, and 108 people, respectively) seen at rest stops.
Figure 4. Visual simulations for the range of conditions presented for the “informal wildlife stops” indicator variable, with zero, two,
and six buses at these informal stops.
2008; Bullock & Lawson 2008; Pettebone et al. 2011; van Riper
et al. 2011). The survey was designed so that respondents
would be presented with a series of “paired comparisons,”
each consisting of two different descriptions of the Denali
Park Road experience. Respondents were asked to choose
which scenario they preferred for each of the paired
comparisons. The paired comparisons were prepared using
a range of potential standards of quality for each of the
six indicators of quality noted above. Standards of quality
define the minimum acceptable condition of indicators of
quality (Manning et al. 2001; Manning 2007; Manning 2011).
The resulting matrix (three standards of quality for each
of six indicators of quality) is shown in table 1. As shown
in the table, two versions of the survey questionnaire were
prepared, one for VTS bus riders and one for tour bus riders.
These versions were identical except for the indicators and
standards of quality for access to these types of trips; this
60
was due to the very different ways in which visitors access
these two types of buses – a first-come, first-served system
for VTS buses and a reservation system for tour buses.
The six-by-three matrix results in 729 potential
combinations of trip characteristics for each type of
bus. Since this is too many combinations to present to
respondents, an orthogonal fractional factorial design was
used to create thirty-six paired comparisons that were
“blocked” into four versions of the questionnaire that
were presented to visitors (Louviere et al. 2000; Kuhfeld
2000). “Blocking” simply means that four versions of the
questionnaire were created that included nine paired
comparisons for each of the two types of buses; the four
versions of the questionnaires each included nine paired
comparisons, resulting in visitor responses for all thirty-six
paired comparisons. Combinations of photographs and
written descriptions of the indicators and standards included
in table 1 were used as noted in the table. An example of a
paired comparison for VTS bus riders is shown in figure 5.
A systematic sampling protocol was used to select survey
respondents and each respondent was asked a screening
question to prevent multiple responses from the same
visitor. The sampling period was designed to include the
park’s peak use period. Sampling was conducted on thirty
randomly selected days during July and August. Visitors were
approached by a trained survey administrator and asked to
complete the questionnaire. At the onset of the survey, the
administrator gave instructions about how to complete the
questionnaire, made sure that the respondent understood
the instructions, and provided assistance with posters that
presented the paired comparison scenarios. Response rates
of 91 percent and 56 percent were achieved for VTS bus riders
and tour bus riders, respectively. This yielded 392 completed
VTS questionnaires and 398 tour bus questionnaires. A total
of 3,528 choice comparisons were made by survey respondents
who rode on VTS buses and 3,573 choice comparisons were
made by survey respondents who rode on tour buses.
Data Analysis
Data analysis was conducted in two phases. First, a
multinomial logit (MNL) model was constructed with data
from respondents who rode on the (1) VTS buses and (2)
tour buses. The second phase of data analysis consisted
of determining the relative importance of each of the
indicators of quality by using a Log-likelihood Ratio
(LLR) test. The LLR chi square values were used to
rank the indicators, assuming that the coefficients with
larger chi square values had a greater influence on the
overall fit of the model (Holmes & Adamowicz 2003).
Study Findings
Results from the first phase of data analysis are shown
graphically in figure 6. The bar graphs in the figure show
the “utility” for the standards of quality presented for each
indicator variable (Holmes & Adamowicz 2003). Utility values
may range from -1 (strongly not preferred) to +1 (strongly
preferred). In general, VTS bus riders preferred seeing fewer
vehicles along the park road, at wildlife stops, and at rest
areas; having a greater chance to see grizzly bears; having
the highest level of access to the buses they wish to be on;
and longer trip lengths. Results from tour bus riders were
quite similar to those of VTS bus riders with the exception
that tour bus riders prefer an intermediate length trip.
Results from the second phase of the analysis are
presented in table 2. This phase of analysis examines
the relative importance of each of the six indicators of
quality. This was done by comparing data from the MNL
models for VTS and tour bus rides using the LLR test.
The resulting chi square values were used to rank the
Indicators
VTS Bus Standards
Tour Bus Standards
1. Number of vehicles seen along
the road at one time
1. Photo with 0 buses
2. Number of vehicles seen at
informal wildlife stops
3. Number of vehicles seen at
rest stops
4. Percent chance of seeing
a grizzly bear
1. 25%
2. 50%
3. 75%
1. 25%
2. 50%
3. 75%
5. Accessibility of buses
1. Most visitors would be able to get on a
bus on the day and time they prefer.
2. Many visitors would have to get on a bus
earlier or later in the day than they prefer.
3. Many visitors would have to wait a day to
get on a bus.
1. You would need to make a reservation
for a bus trip about a month in advance.
for a bus trip about 6 months in advance.
for a bus trip about a year in advance.
6. Trip length
1. Bus trips would average about 4 hours
(reach the Teklanika area).
(reach the Toklat area).
3. Bus trips would average 8 hours or more
(travel most or all of the road, including the
Eielson, Wonder Lake/Kantishna areas).
(reach the Teklanika area).
(reach the Toklat area).
3. Bus trips would average 8 hours or more
(travel most or all of the road, including
the Eielson, Wonder Lake/Kantishna areas).
Table 1. Stated choice matrix for VTS and tour bus riders, with indicators and standards of quality for the stated choice questions.
61
Which of the following two scenarios would you prefer?
(Circle one number at the bottom of the page.)
Scenario A
Scenario B
A. You would have a 25% chance of seeing a grizzly bear on
your trip
A. You would have a 75% chance of seeing a grizzly bear on
your trip
B. You would see the number of buses along the road as
shown in the following photograph: [FIGURE 1B]
B. You would see the number of buses along the road as
shown in the following photograph: [FIGURE 1C]
C. You would see the number of buses at informal “wildlife
stops” along the road as shown in the following photograph:
[FIGURE 3C]
C. You would see the number of buses at informal “wildlife
stops” along the road as shown in the following photograph:
[FIGURE 3B]
D. You would see the number of buses at rest stops along the
road as shown in the following photograph: [FIGURE 2A]
D. You would see the number of buses at rest stops along the
road as shown in the following photograph: [FIGURE 2A]
E. Many visitors would have to wait a day to get on a bus.
E. Most visitors would be able to get on a bus on the day and
time they prefer.
F. Bus trips would average about 6 hours (reach the Toklat
area).
F. Bus trips would average about 4 hours (reach the Teklanika
area).
1. I would prefer Scenario A
2. I would prefer Scenario B
Figure 5. Sample paired comparison for VTS bus riders.
62
1A
1B
1C
2A
2B
2C
3A
3B
3C
importance of each of the six indicators of quality. The
order of ranked importance for each of the indicators for
both the VTS and tour bus riders were very similar. The
percent chance of seeing a grizzly bear was by far the most
important indicator, with the number of visitors seen at rest
stops being the second most important. Bus accessibility
and the number of buses seen at wildlife stops were the
third and fourth most important indicators, respectively. For
VTS respondents, trip length was the fifth most important
indicator while the number of buses seen on the road was the
least important indicator. The order of importance for these
last two indicators was reversed for tour bus respondents.
Conclusions
Findings from this study have helped inform development
of the recent Denali Park Road Vehicle Management Plan
(National Park Service 2012). It’s clear that the ability to see
grizzly bears (and other iconic wildlife) is the most important
indicator of quality for the near-wilderness experience on
the Denali Park Road, and the new plan will monitor wildlife
and wildlife sightings and consider adjusting elements of
road and vehicle management if bus and other traffic on the
road are found to be impacting wildlife, with special attention
to grizzly bears and Dall sheep. The number of buses seen
along the road is also important to visitors, especially at
rest and informal wildlife stops, and the new plan limits
road use to a maximum of one hundred sixty vehicles per
twenty-four-hour period to help maintain a reasonable
sense of “solitude” as defined by near-wilderness visitors.
Visitors are also concerned about maintaining reasonable
access to both VTS and tour buses and the new plan
provides that a majority of seats on both types of buses
will be available by reservation, thus helping to ensure
access to those who plan ahead. Trip length was more
important to VTS bus riders than tour bus riders and VTS
bus riders prefer a longer trip than tour bus riders. In the
new vehicle management plan, VTS riders have options
for long trips while tour buses are limited to shorter trips.
This study was part of an interdisciplinary program
of research conducted to help inform development of
the recent Denali Park Road Vehicle Management Plan
(Phillips et al. 2010; Manning & Hallo 2010; Morris et al.
2010). The program of research included visitor surveys,
wildlife tracking, and simulation modeling of vehicle
use patterns. Based on this program of research, other
information, and public input, the new plan includes a
series of indicators and standards of quality for the nearwilderness experience, a commitment to monitoring these
indicators of quality, and a program of adaptive management
to ensure that standards of quality are maintained.
Figure 6. Multinomial logit model results.
63
Unrestricted LL
Restricted LL
Chi-square
Rank
VTS Buses
Percent chance of seeing grizzly
-1982.864
-2277.844
589.96
1
Buses seen at rest stops
-1982.864
-2061.355
156.982
2
Wait to get on bus
-1982.864
-2044.414
123.1
3
Buses seen at wildlife stops
-1982.864
-2034.132
102.536
4
Length of trip
-1982.864
-1999.111
32.494
5
Buses seen on the road
-1982.864
-1996.938
28.148
6
Percent chance of seeing grizzly
-1976.775
-2218.961
484.372
1
Buses seen at rest stops
-1976.775
-2091.112
228.674
2
Advance reservation
-1976.775
-2078.982
204.414
3
Buses seen at wildlife stops
-1976.775
-2021.510
89.47
4
Buses seen on the road
-1976.775
-2000.205
46.86
5
Length of trip
-1976.775
-1985.107
16.664
6
Tour Buses
Table 2. Relative importance of indicators of quality.
64
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SAS system. Technical Report, SAS Institute Inc.
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65
66
Commercial Use of Wilderness at
Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park
By William Valliere and Robert Manning
Introduction
In 1898, thousands of Americans and others rushed
north in search of newly discovered gold in the Yukon
Territory. The standard route took them by boat to the
head of the Taiya Inlet and the boomtown of Dyea, but
from here they had to trek into the wilderness, up and
over Chilkoot Pass and on to the gold fields of the Yukon.
Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park (Klondike)
commemorates this mass movement of humanity and
this important period of North American history.
More recently, Klondike has been the subject of
another sort of human migration. And once again, most
of these people are arriving by boat. But these visitors
are “tourists” and they are traveling on cruise ships.
Alaska has become a major destination for cruise ships,
and the port town of Skagway is on the itinerary of
most of these ships. It’s not unusual for several cruise
ships a day to call at Skagway, with some of these ships
carrying as many as several thousand visitors.
While most visitors to Klondike remain in and around
the historic town of Skagway, the developed part of the
park, increasing numbers are venturing further afield to
the Dyea portion of the park. During the gold rush period,
the population of the town of Dyea exploded to ten
thousand, but population declined just as quickly when
the gold rush period came to a close. Very little physical
evidence of the town remains as the site has retreated to
a wilderness-like condition; evidence of previous human
use is virtually invisible to the untrained eye, offering
current visitors the feel of wilderness. Although the Dyea
portion of the park is not designated wilderness under the
provisions of the Wilderness Act, it might best be considered
wilderness with a lower case “w.” The Dyea portion of the
Figure 1. Visual simulations of 0, 4, 8, 12, 16, and 20 hikers on
the Chilkoot Trail.
park includes the trailhead of the famous Chilkoot Trail,
the thirty-three-mile route over Chilkoot Pass that led to
the Yukon gold fields. This is now a popular backpacking
trail. Most visitors to the Dyea portion of the park are
participants on short commercial “excursions” sold by cruise
ship companies and conducted by local entrepreneurs.
Because of increasing demand for commercial use of the
wilderness-like area of Dyea, Klondike is preparing a new plan
to manage this use. Among other issues, the plan will address
the carrying capacity of the Dyea area for recreation. To help
inform this plan, a series of visitor surveys were conducted
to address this issue. This article describes these studies.
The Studies
The National Park Service (NPS) has adopted an approach
to determining carrying capacity called Visitor Experience
and Resource Protection (National Park Service 1997; Manning
2001; Manning 2007). This framework relies on formulation
of standards of quality. Standards of quality define the
minimum acceptable condition of park resources and the
visitor experience (Manning 2011). The visitor surveys at
Klondike were commissioned to help formulate standards of
quality for the Dyea area. Use of the Dyea area is comprised
of four types of visitors: (1) commercial “hike and float” trips
(visitors hike the first mile of the Chilkoot trail and return
to Dyea by raft on the Taiya River); (2) commercial bicycle
tours (a guided bike tour of the Dyea area); (3) commercial
“horse adventure” tours (a guided horseback ride in the Dyea
area); and (4) independent visitors (noncommercial visitors,
most of whom participate in a ranger-guided hike). Similar
questionnaires were administered to all four types of visitors
in the summers of 2010 and 2011. The overall response rate
was 73.2 percent and yielded 614 completed questionnaires.
Crowding is an important measure of the quality of the
visitor experience in parks and wilderness, and is often used
as an important measure of the experiential component
of carrying capacity (Vaske & Shelby 2008; Manning 2011).
Therefore, measures of crowding (meaning the number of
other visitors encountered) was a focus of the Dyea studies.
67
Commercial Use of Wilderness at Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park
Figure 2. Visual simulations of 0, 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10 groups of rafters on the Taiya River.
Figure 3. Visual simulations of 0, 5, 10, 15, 20, and 25 visitors at the False Front, presented in the survey of bicycle tour visitors and
independent visitors.
Figure 4. Visual simulations of 0, 5, 10, 15, 20, and 25 visitors at the Warehouse site, presented in the survey of bicycle tour visitors
and independent visitors.
68
Figure 5. Visual simulations of 0, 4, 8, 12, 16, and 20 visitors at the Nelson Slough Bridge, presented in the survey of bicycle tour
visitors and independent visitors.
Figure 6. Visual simulations of 0, 4, 7, 11, 14, 18, and 20 visitors
on the road, presented in the survey of horse tour visitors.
Figure 7. Visual simulations of 0, 4, 7, 11, 14, 18, and 20 visitors
on the tidal flats, presented in the survey of Horse Tour visitors.
69
Figure 8. Crowding-related standards of quality for each of the sites (Chilkoot Trail, Taiya River, False Front, Warehouse, Nelson Slough
Bridge, the road, and the tidal flats).
70
Figure 8. (Continued)
71
Questionnaires administered to all four categories of visitors
included batteries of questions addressing crowding-related
standards of quality. For example, the survey of hike and
float visitors included a set of visual simulations of a range
of visitors at two key locations – hikers on the Chilkoot Trail
(Figure 1) and groups of rafters on the Taiya River (Figure 2).
Respondents were also asked to report (1) the photo showing
the number of visitors they would prefer to see (“preference”);
(2) the photo showing the number of visitors that was so high
they would no longer visit the area (“displacement”); (3) the
photo showing the highest number of visitors the NPS should
allow (“management action”); and (4) the photo showing the
number of visitors they saw (“typically seen”). The survey of
bicycle tour visitors and independent visitors included sets
of study photos for three sites (the False Front (Figure 3), the
Warehouse (Figure 4), and Nelson Slough Bridge (Figure 5)).
The survey of horse tour visitors included sets of study photos
for two sites: (the road (Figure 6) and tidal flats (Figure 7)).
Study Findings
Findings for crowding-related standards of quality are
shown in the graphs in figure 8 and are summarized in
table 1. The figures graph mean acceptability ratings for the
study photos. In all cases, increasing numbers of visitors
are rated as increasingly unacceptable. In figure 3 (hike and
float visitor ratings of hikers on the Chilkoot Trail), mean
acceptability ratings fall out of the acceptable range and
into the unacceptable range at ten people. This threshold
represents a potential standard of quality. However, as
shown in the first row of table 1, visitors on the hike and
float trip reported that, on average, they preferred to see
about five people, they would be displaced if they saw about
fifteen people, they think the NPS should allow a maximum
of about eleven people, and they typically see about five
people. These findings, from five to fifteen people, represent
a range of potential standards of quality for crowding.
Several other findings have potentially important
management implications. Standards of quality were also
measured for tour group size, length of tour, and the number
of other tour groups seen; application of these findings
can help ensure high quality commercial tours. Visitors on
commercial tours were nearly always cruise ship passengers
(91.9 percent to 97.4 percent across the three types of
tours) while independent visitors were rarely cruise ship
Acceptability
Preference
Displacement*
Management
Action**
Typically
Seen
Chilkoot Trail (people)
10.0
4.9
15.2
10.6
5.1
Taiya River (rafts)
5.1
1.8
7.4
4.7
1.2
False Front (people)
12.9
5.8
22.1
13.3
5.4
Warehouse (people)
12.6
5.5
19.4
13.7
5.0
Nelson Slough Bridge (people)
12.4
4.7
15.4
10.9
5.4
False Front (people)
15.1
5.5
19.6
14.2
6.2
Warehouse (people)
14.7
5.6
20.2
14.0
5.5
Nelson Slough Bridge (people)
12.6
5.2
15.5
10.2
4.9
Road (people)
16.6
7.5
n/a
n/a
n/a
Tidal Flats (people)
13.8
6.7
n/a
n/a
n/a
Hike and Float Tour Visitors
Bicycle Tour Visitors
Independent Visitors
Horse Tour Visitors
Table 1. Summary table of crowding-related standards of quality for each of the sites and visitor groups.
*Displacement is defined as the level of use that would cause visitors to not return to the areas they are visiting. The estimates in
Table 1 are underestimated since respondents were given the option to indicate that none of the use levels presented would be high
enough to prevent them from returning.
**Management action is the point at which respondents feel that use levels are high enough to require the NPS to limit use of the
area. The estimates in Table 1 are underestimated since respondents were given the options to indicate that none of the use levels
presented would be high enough to restrict use, or that use should never be restricted.
72
passengers (6.7 percent). While there were relatively few
statistically significant differences between commercial
and independent visitors, independent visitors were
sometimes less tolerant of higher use levels. Only a minority
of commercial visitors knew that Dyea is managed by the
NPS before they arrived at the site, and learned about this
from their tour guide (61.5 percent to 78.2 percent across the
three types of tours). Moreover, most commercial visitors
(77.7 percent to 85.3 percent) do not stop at the park’s visitor
center in Skagway before traveling to Dyea, while most
independent visitors (68.5 percent) do. Length of stay at
Dyea is quite short, averaging between two and three hours.
Conclusions
The surveys at Dyea offer insights into visitors to this area
of the park and have a number of management implications.
For example, data on visitor perceptions of crowding can
help guide decisions about appropriate visitor use levels in
the Dyea portion of the park. This is especially important
given the large and growing levels of use at Klondike, the
most heavily visited unit of the national park system in
Alaska. Respondents to the four surveys conducted as part
of this study generally reported that they saw about the
number of visitors they prefer to see, but given trends in
use, this is likely to change without explicit management
attention. While study data suggest a range of potential
crowding-related standards of quality (from preference to
displacement), the NPS is setting crowding-related standards
of quality at the low (“preference”) end of this range. This
will maintain a very high quality experience and will offer
a type of recreation opportunity that is in contrast to the
often very high density visitor experience in the developed
Skagway portion of the park. This would contribute to a
spectrum of visitor experiences that is often desirable in
national parks and related recreation areas (Manning 2011).
Park managers should take note of the potentially
important role that commercial tour operators play in the
visitor experience at Dyea. The vast majority of commercial
tour visitors weren’t even aware that the area is part of the
national park system (until they were told by tour guides).
Moreover, the majority of commercial tour visitors had not
stopped at the park’s visitor center before traveling to Dyea.
Commercial tour guides are the primary source of information
for the vast majority of visitors to the Dyea area, and the NPS
should work closely with these guides to help ensure that
visitors are given the information they should have to fully
enjoy their experience and appreciate and protect this area.
Perhaps most importantly, the studies at Dyea suggest the
importance of planning for commercial use of national parks,
even wilderness (or wilderness-like) areas. The wilderness
portions of national parks have been important destinations
of commercial tour groups such as Outward Bound and the
National Outdoor Leadership School for many years. But
the experience at Klondike illustrates that commercial tour
visitors can quickly become a major user of these areas and
that this use is quite different from conventional wilderness
and backcountry recreation (Abbe & Manning 2007). This
use should be managed through concession and commercial
use plans that guide appropriate levels and types of use and
the NPS should work closely with commercial operators
to ensure that visitors have a high quality experience and
that visitor behavior is fully respectful of the wilderness/
wilderness-like character of these areas. Klondike offers
a model of this type of planning and management.
REFERENCES
Abbe, D., and R. Manning. 2007.
Wilderness day use: Patterns, impacts, and management. International Journal of Wilderness 13, 21-25.
VERP: The Visitor Experience and Resource Protection (VERP) framework – A handbook for planners and managers.
Denver: Denver Service Center.
Manning, R. 2001.
Visitor Experience and Resource Protection: A framework for managing the carrying capacity of national parks.
Journal of Park and Recreation Management 19, 93-108.
Manning, R. 2007.
Parks and carrying capacity: Commons without tragedy. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.
Manning, R. 2011.
Studies in outdoor recreation: Search and research for satisfaction. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press.
Vaske, J., and B. Shelby. 2008.
Crowding as a descriptive indicator and an evaluative standard: Results from 30 years of research. Leisure Sciences 30, 111-126.
73
74
74
Assessing and Mitigating the Cumulative Effects
of Installations in Wilderness
By Robert A.Winfree, Adrienne Lindholm,
and Angie Southwould
Introduction
This article describes the basis for and application of a
GIS-based approach to assessing installations in the national
parks in Alaska, a collaborative product of the National
Park Service (NPS) Alaska Region’s Science in Wilderness
Workgroup and the regional GIS (geographic information
system) Team. Baseline maps of installations in wilderness
allow park staff to more effectively determine cumulative
effects to the undeveloped quality of wilderness character
as staff evaluate requests for additional installations.
Land managers can reduce impacts from installations
by considering mitigation measures and by following a
four-step process for reducing cumulative impacts.
Purpose of Wilderness
The overarching mandate of the Wilderness Act is
to preserve wilderness character. Wilderness character
is composed of five qualities that directly link agency
stewardship and wilderness conditions to the statutory
language of the 1964 Wilderness Act and NPS policy
(NPS 2006), and apply to every wilderness regardless
of size, location, agency administration, or other
attribute. These qualities of wilderness character are:
Natural – wilderness ecological systems are substantially
free from the effects of modern civilization.
Solitude or primitive and unconfined recreation – wilderness provides outstanding opportunities for solitude or
primitive and unconfined recreation.
Undeveloped – wilderness retains its primeval character
and influence, and is essentially without permanent improvement or modern human occupation.
Untrammeled – wilderness is essentially unhindered and
free from the actions of modern human control or manipulation.
Other Features – tangible features that provide scientific,
educational, scenic, or historical value to the wilderness.
Figure 1. This map was generated from a geographic information system (GIS) database of installations and structures at Lake
Clark National Park and Preserve. The types of data attributes
recorded for a single installation are illustrated in Table 2.
The Wilderness Act identifies six public purposes of
wilderness: “recreational, scenic, scientific, educational,
conservation, and historical use” (Public Law 88-577,
Sec. 4. (b)). The act also prohibits temporary roads,
motor vehicles, motorized equipment, landing of aircraft,
structures, and installations “except as necessary to meet
minimum requirements for the administration of the area
for the purpose of this act (including measures required
in emergencies involving the health and safety of persons
within the area)” (Public Law 88-577. 4. (c)). The Alaska
National Interest Lands Conservation Act (ANILCA)
modifies certain provisions in the Wilderness Act for Alaska
conservation system units by allowing certain types of
motorized transportation methods, access to and use of
subsistence resources, and certain types of installations and
structures. However, even though a use or activity is legal,
it may still degrade wilderness character. The challenge
for wilderness managers in Alaska is to preserve an area’s
wilderness character in light of the special provisions found
in ANILCA and in spite of exceptions the agency may make
to Section 4(c) in its administration of the wilderness unit.
Preserving the Undeveloped Quality of Wilderness
Character
The undeveloped quality of wilderness character
runs through every definition of wilderness. The
Wilderness Act states that wilderness is “an area of
undeveloped federal land retaining its primeval character
and influence, without permanent improvements or
human habitation,” “where man himself is a visitor who
does not remain” and “with the imprint of man’s work
substantially unnoticeable.” This quality is degraded by
the presence of structures, installations, habitations, and
by the use of motor vehicles, motorized equipment, or
mechanical transport that increases people’s ability to
occupy or modify the environment (Landres et al. 2008).
Installations are one of the main factors that degrade
the undeveloped quality. The term installation is
commonly understood to include site markers, ecological
monitoring instruments, communications facilities, and
navigation-related facilities. In fact, it includes any object
that is assembled or created outside the wilderness and
is left behind when the installer leaves the wilderness.
In order to preserve the undeveloped quality and
wilderness character as a whole, agencies must track
NPS map
75
Assessing and Mitigating the Cumulative Effects of Installations in Wilderness
changes to the undeveloped quality over time. Landres et
al. (2005) developed a methodology for tracking change
in wilderness character. This methodology has been
refined specifically for the NPS in the 2013 NPS Wilderness
Character User Guide. The first step in tracking change in
the undeveloped quality is to identify a baseline condition
for the elements that comprise it. The baseline for
comparison could hypothetically be at any point for which
reliable data is available. It could, for example, include
data from resource inventories, historic maps and photos,
administrative records, and local and traditional knowledge.
Figure 2. Wildlife research and monitoring have long been vital to well-informed decision making throughout the National Park
System. Such studies are especially important where human activities show potential to alter animal behaviors or population
dynamics. This wolf wears a collar designed to track its movement in and around Denali National Park and Preserve.
B
Figures 3a and 3b. Two views of Mount McKinley (clear and hazy days in August 2013) from the Denali National Park and Preserve
webcam located at Wonder Lake, about 85 miles from the park entrance. High resolution photos are archived for visibility
documentation and posted on the internet. The solar-powered webcam is located along the Denali Park Road, a three-hundred-footwide non-wilderness corridor. http://www.nature.nps.gov/air/webcams/parks/denacam/denacam.cfm#
76
NPS photo
NPS photo
A
Establishing a Baseline for the Undeveloped Quality
of Wilderness Character
While the effects of individual activities may sometimes
seem minor by themselves, accumulated small effects
can be significant. During the early 2000s, NPS Alaska
Region superintendents expressed concern over the
growing number of installations in wilderness and their
cumulative effect on wilderness character. Acting on the
recommendations of the NPS Alaska Region Science in
Wilderness Workgroup, and under the direction of the
Alaska Leadership Council, the region began in 2010 to
develop a GIS database of all known installations in parks,
including relevant information for determining intrusiveness.
As the regional GIS team began its work, high priority
was given to documenting larger, more obtrusive, and
higher-tech types of wilderness installations (Table 1).
Existing datasets and GIS data layers as well as interviews
with park staff were used to identify locations of known
installations, while recognizing that the first generation
of maps would likely underestimate the actual number
of installations. An initial geodatabase was developed
and released for use. Table 2 shows an example of the
type of data that was collected for each installation.
The number of documented installations is expected
to increase with time, as more pre-existing installations are
recorded and added to the database. Distinguishing between
newly documented and newly created installations is also
important for determining whether a new data point simply
adjusts the baseline or is considered to be an additive effect.
• Communication Systems
• Geologic Monitoring Stations
• Weather and Climate Monitoring Stations
• Navigation related facilities
• River/Water gage stations
• Webcams
Table 1. Types of installations included in geodatabase.
Field Name
Field Value
Notes
Installation_Type
Weather/Climate
-
Installation_Subtype
SNOTEL Station
-
Installation_Physical_Desc
Installation consists of an 8 ft tall shelter
house, 10 ft tall alter shield precipitation
gage, 8 ft tall MET tower with attached
equipment, and a 6 ft wide hypalon snow
pillow.
-
Installation_Purpose_Desc
Snowpack and climate monitoring
-
Installation_Name
McNeil Canyon
-
Installation_ID
51K14
-
Installation_Status
Installed – good condition
-
Installation_Setting
Set in ground
-
Installation_Width_FT
50
Width of cumulative site footprint.
Installation_Length_FT
50
Length of cumulative site footprint.
Installation_Height_FT
10
Height of the tallest site component
Relation_To_Surface
Above surface
-
Installation_Organization
USDA, Natural Resources Conservation
-
NPS_Program_Name
Service
-
Actual_Install_Date
SWAN Inventory and Monitoring
-
Has_Seasonal_Deployment
08/01/1986
-
Seasonal_Deployment_Desc
No
-
Removal_Is_Anticipated
-
-
Expected_Removal_Date
No
-
Actual_Removal_Date
-
-
Geometry_ID
-
-
{FFFD8575-E4DA-4DE7-A9CE-3197978CBCB5}
-
Table 2. Example attribution for a SNOTEL (Snow Telemetry) station installation
77
Baseline maps of installations in wilderness allow park staff
to more effectively determine cumulative effects (CEQ 1997) to
the undeveloped quality of wilderness character as staff evaluate proposals that include additional installations (Figure 1).
well. When the estimated costs of concealment are factored
into early planning, there may also be more consideration of
alternative sites that might at first be dismissed as infeasible.
The most obvious opportunity for reducing the impacts
of installations would be a unified effort to avoid adding
unnecessary new installations, removal of nonfunctional
or obsolete installations, and replacement of individual
installations with others that serve multiple functions while
meeting the needs of multiple users. Doing so can largely
be a question of opportunity and expense when all the
components are owned and used by the NPS. However, some
are installed and operated by other stakeholders, including
agencies, institutions, and scientists, with permission from
the NPS. Trust and equity are important considerations
under such conditions, because such installations can
involve major professional and budgetary investments.
Some also serve public safety needs. Unilateral decisions
to remove operable installations without clear cause can
have chilling and long-lasting effects on NPS relationships
and impact future ability to attract cooperators for work in
wilderness areas. Placing a moratorium on new installations,
an arbitrary cap on the total number of installations, or
imposing unreasonably short permit durations for long-term
installations could also be viewed unfavorably by cooperators.
Mitigating and Reducing Impacts to the
Undeveloped Quality of Wilderness Character
The first opportunity to mitigate cumulative impacts and
help preserve the undeveloped quality of wilderness character
is by reducing the potential for incremental impacts, and
preferably by working cooperatively in the initial stages of
developing project proposals. While even the smallest longterm placements of markers or instruments are installations,
their effects on wilderness character can be quite different
from larger installations (Figure 2). There is a substantial body
of knowledge and a number of highly successful examples
of ways to minimize the physical and ecological impacts of
installations, as well as to make their visual and auditory
imprint “substantially unnoticeable.” The definitions provided
by Landres et al. (2010) suggest ways for reducing use of
visibly unnatural components to minimize installation effects.
Site-specific design is typically part of the “cost of doing
business” when considering large and critical installations in
areas of significant public use, and should be for wilderness as
78
B
NPS photo
Figure 4a and 4b. This installation at Wickersham Dome, outside
the Denali Wilderness in Denali National Preserve combines
seismic monitoring, Plate Boundary Observatory geodesy, park
radio, and wireless repeaters. Co-location usually means that a
hut or huts can be shared for batteries and to protect electronics. In theory, a modest mast can support any number of small
antennas, some of which can also be concealed within the hut.
However, additional solar panel installations may be necessary
depending on the total power requirements of the instruments
involved. Seismometers are usually located a couple of hundred
feet from the instrument huts to diminish interference, with a
shallow buried cable running between them. Careful planning
can minimize the number of helicopter trips required for installation and scheduled maintenance.
NPS photo
A
NPS photo
Figure 5. This Geographic
Positioning System (GPS) site
in Glacier Bay is designed to
precisely and continuously
measure bedrock movement
caused by isostatic uplift.
Visual impact was reduced by
concealing minimal equipment
within a patch of vegetation.
NPS photo
Figure 6. Park managers can sometimes reduce visual impacts by concealing instruments inside existing structures. Situating a radio
repeater inside a deteriorating cabin may reduce overall visual impact and probability of disturbance. However, historic preservation is
another important factor when considering adaptive reuse.
79
NPS photo
Figure 7. Cape Spencer Lighthouse is located within Glacier Bay’s wilderness. The station was constructed prior to wilderness
designation and is managed by the U.S. Coast Guard. At least seven installations are co-located there, including a Federal
Aviation Administration web camera, a National Weather Service weather station, a University of Alaska GPS station, and
UNAVCO geodesy equipment.
Steps for Reducing Cumulative Impacts
from Installations
The Science in Wilderness Workgroup proposed
a four-step process and several related questions for
reducing cumulative impacts from installations.
1. Evaluate the Purpose and Need
• Is the installation necessary for management
of the area as wilderness? If so, how?
• Is the installation expected to reduce future impacts
to other qualities of wilderness character? If so, how?
2. Evaluate the Location and Design
• Could the primary purposes be accomplished by an
installation outside of wilderness (Figures 3a and 3b)?
• Could potential impacts of installations be mitigated
through alternative locations (or co-location with other
installations) that would reduce frequency of encounters by visitors and wildlife or reduce transportation
needs to service the installation (Figures 4a and 4b)?
• Could the potential impacts be mitigated
through design features to make it “substantially
unnoticeable” or to reduce the frequency
of maintenance (Figures 5 and 6)?
• Are their opportunities for co-location or relocation of
installations by NPS staff and cooperators (Figure 7)?
3. Bring Aging Installations “Up to Code”
• Stipulations for existing installations should be
re-evaluated during re-permitting (generally at least
every five years), or possibly earlier if the permittee
80
requests permit amendments for major upgrades or
replacement of components. Re-permitting provides
opportunities to better document existing installations and consider removal of obsolete installations,
consolidation with other installations where practical,
or modifications to reduce visual or other impacts.
4. Removing Abandoned and Inoperable Installations
• Stipulations for all new permits for installations
should require that they be indelibly marked or
permanently tagged with contact and permit information, with map coordinates and photos of the actual
installation to be provided to the permit office. Permit
stipulations, correspondence, and documentation in
the permanent project file should identify who is responsible for final removal and site restoration. Communications with permittees should include checking
on the status of existing installations before the
permits expire and before issuing additional permits.
Summary
It is important to remember that many exceptionally
valuable studies are only possible today, because the current
generation of scientists was able to precisely relocate
benchmarks, monuments, plot markers, survey points, and
exclosures that were installed by their predecessors, not
always with thought for longer-term studies. Numerous
new studies that rely on instrumentation provide valuable
information about wilderness resources. However,
managers must be vigilant about preserving the undeveloped
quality and wilderness character as a whole. Over time, any
effort that succeeds in reducing the incremental effects of
a new activity or installation will also reduce cumulative
effects. Parks should establish an appropriate baseline and
benchmarks to which the effects can be compared. While
baselines can be established for any point at which data is
available, the most relevant benchmarks relate to “desired
conditions” identified in current management plans.
REFERENCES
Council on Environmental Quality (CEQ). 1997.
Considering cumulative effects under the National Environmental Policy Act. Council on Environmental Quality. Executive
Office of the President of the United States. http://ceq.hss.doe.gov/nepa/ccenepa/toc.pdf
Landres, P., C. Barns, J. Dennis, T. Devine, P. Geissler, C. McCasland, L. Merigliano, J. Seastrand, and R. Swain. 2008.
Keeping it wild: an interagency strategy to monitor trends in wilderness character across the National Wilderness Preservation
System. Gen. Tech. Rep. RMRS-GTR-212. Fort Collins: U.S. Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Research
Station. 77 p.
Landres, P., S. Boutcher, L. Merigliano, C. Barns, D. Davis, T. Hall, S. Henry, B. Hunter, P. Janiga, M. Laker, A. McPherson, D.Powell,
M. Rowan, and S. Sater. 2005.
Monitoring selected conditions related to wilderness character: a national framework. General Technical Report,
RMRS-GTR-151. Fort Collins:U.S. Forest Service Rocky Mountain Research Station.
Landres, P., M. Fincher, and L. Sharman. 2010.
A framework to evaluate proposals for scientific activities in wilderness. General Technical Report RMRS GTR-234WWW. 74 p.
Fort Collins, Co: U.S. Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Research Station.
Management Policies 2006. U.S. Department of the Interior, National Park Service. http://www.nps.gov/policy/mp2006.pdf
Public Law 88-577 (16 U.S. C. 1131-1136). 1964.
An Act To establish a National Wilderness Preservation System for the permanent good of the whole people, and for other
purposes.
Public Law 96-487 (94 Stat. 2371). 1980.
Alaska National Interest Lands Conservation Act. 2013 National Park Service Wilderness Character User Guide.
81
82
Late Pleistocene Paleontology and
Native Heritage in Northwest Alaska
By Jonathan Hardes
What are fossils?
A paleontological find or “fossil” in the strictest sense of
the term refers to remains or other evidence of a once-living
The Pleistocene, or mammoth, steppe was characterized
organism that have been preserved, carbonized or mineralized
by a dry climate, with cool summers and a landscape rich with
(petrified) through long-term exposure to mineral-rich
grasses spanning from Spain to Canada. These conditions
groundwater. Essentially, some portion of the organism or a
were ideal for the large grazers of the day, with the most
trace of its existence (such as a track or imprint) turns to stone
common being the steppe bison (Bison priscus), horse (Equus
over time, a process known as diagenesis. However, scientists
sp.) and the woolly mammoth (Mammuthus primigenius)
also frequently use the word fossil in a more ubiquitous way
(Figure 2). Though much
to describe specimens that
lower in numbers, a suite of
are ten thousand years old or
carnivores that preyed upon
older. In other words, many
the grazers also inhabited the
bones found throughout
region, with the American
Alaska, though described
lion (Panthera atrox), shortas fossils, have not actually
faced bear (Arctodus simus),
petrified through the
and the grey or timber wolf
fossilization process. Fossils
(Canis lupus) being the best
can include the remains of
known (Kurten and Anderson
shells, plants, tracks, and
1980). The area supported
feeding trails, and even
a much greater variety of
the softer parts of animals
species than we see today.
such as feathers and skin.
The Bering Land Bridge
Late Pleistocene
describes an arid swath of
fossils discovered in
Figure 2. Woolly mammoth tooth discovered on the Seward
land that connected Asia with
northwest Alaska consist
Peninsula.
North America during the
primarily of remains of
Pleistocene epoch (2,580,000
large mammals, whose
to 11,700 years ago). This connection occurred when massive
more robust and denser teeth and bones lend themselves
ice sheets held a larger percentage of the earth’s water than
to better preservation and subsequent discovery than
today, causing sea levels to be lower, thereby exposing
those of smaller species. Their greater size also makes
large tracts of land. At its greatest extent, approximately
them easier to spot on an open and vast landscape (Figure
twenty-one thousand years ago, the land bridge measured
1). The most common local finds are the remains of the
some one thousand miles from north to south. The “bridge”
grazers, or those animals that subsisted primarily on grasses
served as a passageway for the movement of an array of
and sedges and tended to live in herds or larger extended
species between the continents of Asia and North America.
family groups. It is important to note that many extant
(still with us today) species, such as caribou, muskox, and
brown bear lived alongside these now extinct fauna.
Northwest Alaska Eighteen Thousand Years Ago
NPS photo courtesy of Jeff Rasic
Figure 1. Louise Farquharson (UAF Geology Department) with
a recently discovered mammoth humerus, Bering Land Bridge
National Preserve.
NPS photo courtesy of Jonathan Hardes
How Fossils End Up Where We Find Them
In order for ancient remains to preserve or fossilize,
the organism or at least a portion of it must be buried
soon after its death. Timely burial protects the bones from
83
Late Pleistocene Paleontology and Native Heritage in Northwest Alaska
NPS photo courtesy of Jeff Rasic
Figure 3. Steppe bison skull on a northern Alaska gravel bar.
dispersal and destruction by scavengers as well as from the
array of erosional forces constantly at work on the earth’s
surface. Ideal conditions for preservation would also have
an element of consistency; for example, the ground in which
the remains are contained would remain wet or frozen with
minimal fluctuation throughout the period of interment.
Many prehistoric remains found in northwest Alaska
have found their way to the surface through the erosional
forces of moving water. Along coastal areas, storm surges
expose ancient fossils, often depositing them on beaches.
The breakup of ice on rivers in the spring and the rising
of water levels regularly erode away large portions of river
bank, exposing fossils contained within. More often than
not, the freshly exposed fossils are then washed down stream
where they can accumulate on gravel bars (Figure 3). For this
reason, area fossils found in their original locations are rare.
The Importance of In Situ Documentation
Paleontological resources provide scientists with a rare
glimpse into the prehistoric past. Ancient environments
and their various forms of plant and animal life can be
reconstructed by studying these remains and the unique
84
place in the landscapes in which they were discovered. These
resources are incredibly limited in numbers and once they
are damaged, or removed from their original locations (in
situ), much of their educational and scientific data is lost.
Documentation of a find is often the most important
aspect of fossil-related research and collection. Appropriate
recording of a paleontological specimen includes
information about the specimen (taxonomic identification,
measurements, taphonomy), its location on the landscape
(latitude/longitude, stratigraphic position), and the
geology of the immediate area. Without this baseline data,
the specimen has lost the vast majority of its potential
to inform us about the prehistoric past (Figure 4).
A Heritage of Collecting and Current Management
Native inhabitants of Alaska have long used animal
remains discovered on the landscape as sources of raw
material for a variety of household items, hunting implements,
and pieces of art. It is not unheard of for the remains of
a five-hundred-year-old pit house in northwest Alaska to
contain sections of a ten-thousand-year-old mammoth
tusk. The ivory is likely collected from a nearby beach,
Figure 4. National Park
Service archeologist
Jonathan Hardes
examines a portion of a
mammoth rib recovered
from a small thermokarst
lake, Bering Land Bridge
National Preserve.
Figure 5. Major ice age fossil localities in Alaska include gold
mining districts near Fairbanks and Dawson, rivers on the Arctic
Slope, and the Seward Peninsula/Kotzebue Sound region. Each
area provides a different view of Beringia’s ancient environments and animal communities. Map courtesy of Adam Freeburg.
Sources: Glaciers adapted from Manley and Kaufman (2002)
[LGM, approx 20kya] and Dyke (2004) [18k 14Cya]. Land Bridge
adapted from Manley (2002).
85
Late Pleistocene Paleontology and Native Heritage in Northwest Alaska
taken to the home with portions put to use in myriad
ways. This tradition of fossil collecting by Alaska Natives
continues to the present with bones and ivory collected
from Native- and privately-owned lands and put up for
sale, either in their original form or after having been
fashioned into objects of art. This common activity plays a
critical role in the local subsistence, cash-based economy.
The National Park Service (NPS), charged with the
stewardship of paleontological remains, seeks an ethical
balance between the preservation of all prehistoric
finds and the rights of long-term, Native inhabitants,
whose very livelihoods (often for many generations)
have involved the collection of these very remains.
Federal regulations are clear about not disturbing
or damaging paleontological finds on federal lands.
Appropriate management involves federal land-managing
agencies conducting condition assessments leading
to management actions that preserve paleontological
resources where possible, or it permanently captures
and documents the information these resources
contain where preservation is not possible.
protection and study, local avocational and scientific
communities must become more aware of them and
come together to share information. Scientists working in
areas such as Kotzebue rely heavily on local knowledge to
learn more about and protect paleontological resources.
The author has found public workshops and blogging
as well as a simple open-door policy for those who
are already in possession of fossil remains, to be quite
effective means of sharing this knowledge (Figure 6).
The Value of Fossils and Why We Study Them
Each fossil, no matter how fragmentary, is singular
in its ability to illuminate the life of a particular creature
and the age in which it lived. Fossils provide us with
direct, tangible links to the prehistoric past, including
long-extinct animal populations, changes in climate, and
ecology. The study of past life forms even plays a role in
modern conservation biology and wildlife management.
Through the lens of paleontology and its vast spans of
time, researchers are afforded an exceptional opportunity
to look at long-term biological trends and apply their
findings to prevailing conservation concerns.
Of course in order to study the prehistoric past, we
must protect and conserve the remnants of it. For federal
managers, the Paleontological Resources Preservation Act
(PRPA) provides the authority for the preservation and
management of ancient remains. The act also reminds
us that collecting these resources from federal lands
without the appropriate permits is not permitted. In fact,
damage or removal of paleontological resources can
lead to conviction and a felony charge. State, federal, and
Alaska Native Corporation land managers each have their
own set of rules designed to protect these resources.
Paleontology and Northwest Alaska
Fossil remains are bountiful in northwest Alaska, with
the Baldwin Peninsula, Kotzebue Sound, and Seward
Peninsula being particularly fossil-rich areas (Figure 5).
Recorded paleontological discoveries were made in the
immediate area as early as 1816. However, the region
has lacked the level of attention and scientific study
of other northern areas such as the Klondike and the
Yukon, and is therefore lesser known (Kurten 1980).
In order for these resources to receive adequate
Figure 6. National Park Service archeologist Jonathan Hardes
documents ice age bones from the collections of LaVonne’s Fish
Camp, Kotzebue.
86
Suggestions for the Discovery of a New Find
1. Please do not touch, move, collect, or otherwise disturb
artifacts, cultural features, or paleontological resources.
2.Record the site location with a GPS unit or
by marking it on a topographic map with
compass bearings to prominent landmarks.
3.Provide a detailed description of approximate
size, numbers, and position of materials.
4.If you have a camera, please take photographs
of the site area and surrounding landscape.
If possible, include a scale in photos of
individual items or specimens.
5.Report information to an archeologist or paleontologist. (If you are in the greater-Kotzebue area please
contact National Park Service Archeologist Jon Hardes
at 907-442-8342 or [email protected])
For More Information
Society of Vertebrate Paleontology
http://vertpaleo.org/
The Paleontological Society Code of Fossil Collecting
http://www.paleosoc.org/pscode.htm
Paleontology in the National Parks
http://www.nature.nps.gov/GEOLOGY/paleontology/
index.cfm
Ice Age Mammal Bones of Northwest Alaska blog series
(see Running Herd blog)
http://www.nps.gov/kova/blogs/runningherd.htm
Acknowledgements
Employment with the National Park Service and
specifically the Western Arctic National Parklands (Bering
Land Bridge National Preserve, Cape Krusenstern National
Monument, Kobuk Valley National Park, and Noatak
National Preserve) provides the author with an incredibly
unique opportunity to work and live in the heart of Beringia.
Jeff Rasic of Yukon-Charley National Preserve and Gates
of the Arctic National Park and Preserve deserves a special
thank you for his thoughtful and timely comments as well as
his longstanding support for cultural and natural resources
in the region. Gratitude also goes out to the residents of
Kotzebue and its satellite villages for their willingness to
share knowledge of fossil finds with an outsider. Thank you.
REFERENCES
Dyke, A. 2004.
An outline of North American Deglaciation with emphasis on central and northern Canada. Quaternary Glaciations-Extent
and Chronology, Part II, p. 373-424, J. Ehlers, and P. Gibbard, eds. Elsevier.
Elias, S. 1995.
The Ice-Age History of Alaska National Parks. Washington: Smithsonian Institutional Press.
Guthrie, R. 1990
Frozen Fauna of the Mammoth Steppe: The Story of Blue Babe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Hopkins, D. 1967.
The Bering Land Bridge. Redwood City, CA: Stanford University Press.
Kurten, B., and E. Anderson. 1980.
Pleistocene Mammals of North America. New York: Columbia University Press.
Manley, W., 2002.
Postglacial Flooding of the Bering Land Bridge: A Geospatial Animation: Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research, University of
Colorado, v1, http://instaar.colorado.edu/QGISL/bering_land_bridge
Manley, W., and D. Kaufman. 2002.
Alaska PaleoGlacier Atlas: Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research, University of Colorado,
http://instaar.colorado.edu/QGISL/ak_paleoglacier_atlas, v. 1
Shapiro, B., et al. 2004.
Rise and Fall of the Beringian Steppe Bison. Science.
Turner, Alan and Mauricio Anton. 1997.
The Big Cats and their fossil relatives. New York: Columbia University Press.
Zimov, S.A., et al. 2012.
Mammoth steppe: A high-productivity phenomenon. Quaternary Science Reviews.
87
88
Artists Spotlight Alaskan Wilderness
By Tim Lydon
Photo courtesy of Sean Rielly
“For generations, artists have connected Americans
to their public lands,” says Barbara Lydon, U.S. Forest
Service wilderness ranger and the exhibit’s coordinator.
Throughout 2014, Alaskans can celebrate the fiftieth
“Think of George Catlin, Albert Bierstadt, and Thomas
anniversary of the Wilderness Act with artistic flair. The
Moran. Their work in the nineteenth century inspired
Voices of the Wilderness Traveling Art Exhibit is a collection
early pride in America’s wild landscapes and even
of paintings, photographs, sculptures, poetry, and other
influenced Congress to create our first parks.”
works created by professional artists and inspired by Alaska’s
Lydon says Alaska’s wilderness
expansive 56 million acres of federal
artist residencies keep that
wilderness. The exhibit will tour seven
tradition alive today.
Alaska communities during 2014,
Managers of parks, forests, and
including Juneau, Fairbanks, Anchorage,
wildlife refuges know the inspirational
Sitka, Homer, Kenai, and Ketchikan.
value of art and have long hosted
In all, twenty of Alaska’s thirty-nine
artist residencies at spectacular
federal wilderness areas are represented,
places across the country. But
spanning the state. The works include
according to Lydon, recent Alaskan
a wood-carved paddle by Tlingit artist
residencies have offered a twist.
Donald Frank, whose home village of
Rather than hosting artists at cabins
Angoon lies adjacent to Admiralty Island
or lodges, where scenery is often the
National Monument on the Tongass
focus, recent artists have participated
National Forest. Other highlights come
in wilderness stewardship projects as
from Gates of the Arctic National
part of their residencies. Many of those
Park, Glacier Bay National Park, Arctic
in the exhibit joined agency specialists
National Wildlife Refuge, Alaska
for a week or more in the field. They
Maritime National Wildlife Refuge, and
gathered marine debris, pulled invasive
the Chugach National Forest wilderness
Figure 2. As a 2011 artist-in-residence, Julie
weeds, or assisted with research of
study area in Prince William Sound.
Denesha of Merriam, Kansas, photographs
Dawes Glacier. Tracy Arm-Fords Terror
wildlife, air quality, and climate change.
Much of the work was produced
Wilderness, Tongass National Forest.
Often in very Alaskan weather,
through artist residencies hosted by
they hiked, paddled, and camped
the U.S. Forest Service, National Park
in some of America’s wildest places. According to Lydon,
Service, and U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service during the last
they also learned that how we care for the land is often
five years. Each work is accompanied by an artist’s statement
just as inspiring as the land itself, especially in an era
about their experiences in Alaskan wilderness, along with
facing climate change and other big challenges.
a placard and map highlighting the area’s features.
Figure 1. As a 2012 artist-in-residence, Susan Watkins of Eagle
River, Alaska, paints at Pakenham Point, College Fjord. Nellie
Juan-College Fiord Wilderness Study Area, Chugach National
Forest.
Additional Information and application
materials for the Voices of the Wilderness—Artist-inResidency Program: http://www.fs.usda.gov/detail/
chugach/home/?cid=STELPRDB5347393
Photo courtesy of Barbara Lydon
89
Artists Spotlight Alaskan Wilderness
Photo courtesy of Barbara Lydon
Photo courtesy of Kathy Hodge
90
Figure 3. Kathy Hodge of
Providence, Rhode Island,
paints in front of Surprise
Glacier in Harriman
Fiord as a 2011 artist-inresidence. Nellie JuanCollege Fiord Wilderness
Study Area, Chugach
National Forest.
Figure 4. Oil painting
entitled “Surprise” by
Kathy Hodge of
Providence, Rhode Island.
Inspired by Surprise
Glacier, Harriman Fiord.
Nellie Juan-College Fiord
Wilderness Study Area,
Chugach National Forest.
NPS photo courtesy of Linda Jeschke
Figure 5. “Wolf at the Door” was painted by Elaine Phillips, who was the 2013 artist-in-residence at Kobuk Valley National Park. Listen
to an interview with the artist: http://kdlg.org/post/original-tapestry-debuts-dillingham
91
Alaska Park Science
National Park Service
Alaska Regional Office
240 West 5th Avenue
Anchorage, Alaska 99501
www.nps.gov/akso/AKParkScience/akparkarchives.html
Savage Canyon view, Denali National Park and Preserve. NPS photo

Alaska Park Science - UAA Institute of Social and Economic Research

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